


Two Sides of The Same Coin

by Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fade to Black, Fluff and Angst, Light Smut, Love Triangles, No Porn, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rivalry, Second base with fade to black, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor stayed behind in the Fade at Adamant. Her absence means the death of the Inquisition. The advisors are at a loss and Cullen feels hopeless.</p><p>A rift that opens in the middle of Skyhold brings Gwendolynn Trevelyan back. Along with two men that no - one expected to see. At all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I really should finish ongoing stories before I start new ones. But creativity, it wants to get out!
> 
> As per usual - not a native speaker, no beta reader, the hero of Ferelden was br - oh wait.
> 
> Hopefully you will enjoy this as much as I do ^^
> 
> Always looking forward to kudos and comments (if, of course, deserved!)
> 
> And, if for what ever crazy reason, you like my stuff, you can prompt me on my [tumblr](http://zhar-ptitca.tumblr.com) I specialise in one-shots and enjoy crack.

They have lost the Inquisitor at Adamant. 

_She is gone. We are doomed. The war is lost._

These thoughts had been running through Cullen's head the moment he saw the rift explode with magic and close behind the backs of Hawke and the Grey Warden. For a moment, while his eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the night, Cullen still hoped to see the Inquisitor standing up from her knees in that nonchalant manner of hers.

"Where is she?!" he leaped towards the warden, resisting the urge to grab him by the scruff. The man looked up at him, confusion in his eyes reflecting that of Cullen.

"She would not let anyone cover her escape. She told she would be right behind us..." he said, his voice straining.

"And then the rift just... closed." Hawke's soft voice came from his left.

Cullen felt like someone punched him in the gut. He tried and couldn't breath, fingers twitching and black spots swimming in front of his eyes. His head was spinning and finally he slowly started walking away, ignoring the calls for orders coming from every direction. Knight - Captain Rylen took over, noticing the distant expression on the Commander's face and his failure to respond to anyone. He should probably thank him later, Cullen thought absentmindedly. Then again, with the Inquisitor gone, so is the Inquisition. They just do not know it yet.

Back at his tent, Cullen dropped himself into the chair and very slowly reached out for a piece of paper and a quill. Cullen wasted three parchments - his hands were trembling, both due to the lyrium withdrawal he was going through and the shock of what had happened. How do you tell your comrades, the people you came to know and call friends, that everything they all have worked for is crumbling?

_It falls on me to inform you that we had lost the Inquisitor at the Adamant fortress._

"I am so sorry, Gwendolynn." he whispered, dropping his head on his hands.

***  
Suddenly Skyhold seemed too big and too empty, even with all these people around. Cullen stalked the hallways, automatically doing the routes and routines he had set for himself when the Inquisition had just found this place. Walk. Smile. Nod. Repeat. _Appearances are everything, Commander._ Yes, Josephine loved to remind him of that. 

The inner circle knew and grieved but to avoid the panic in the masses, the Inquisitor was said to be staying in Adamant to help the wardens organise. The advisors still had their meetings around the war table, spent mostly in awkward silence. There was nothing to discuss, really. Moving forward without the Inquisitor was impossible and so all they could do is to send more troops to take care of the Venatori in the areas that had been already cleared. Without a doubt, their inactivity would be noticed soon enough and the enemy forces would come for them.

And then there were _the_ stares. And condolences. Pets on the shoulder.

_Cullen, this must be hard for you._

_Shit, Curly, I don't know what to say._

_Don't beat yourself up, Commander._

At first he thanked the well - wishers with a smile. Later it was but a curt nod. Soon enough even that was too much and Cullen made it through the day by staring on the ground, zoning out the world around him. It _infuriated_ him to be the butt of their pity. His budding relationship with the Inquisitor was a personal issue, it was the slow and painful death of the Inquisition they should mourn. But, truth be told, even Cullen himself found it difficult to do what he _should_ instead of what his aching heart demanded. He sequestered himself from the rest and if he was not in his quarters, he was at the small Chantry, kneeling by the statue of Andraste and just watching the candles burning away slowly.

This is where he had been today when the door had opened, extinguishing some flames.

"Commander Cullen!"

"What is it?" he stood up slowly and turned around to face one of Leliana's scouts. The man's eyes were wide open in fear.

"Commander, ser! The rift had just opened, in the courtyard!"

"Soldiers?" Cullen barked at the trembling scout, automatically switching back to his usual mode. There was no way to close the rift without the Inquisitor but perhaps there was a way to contain it. He ran out of the Chantry, messenger trailing behind him.

"Awaiting your orders."

"Call the templars. _Now_."

The scout nodded and darted off in the direction of the templar tower. Cullen briefly watched the man go as he himself turned to the opposite direction, unsheathing the sword as he ran. The missive had not been entirely right. The rift was not yet fully open but Cullen saw enough of them to know it would be at its full capacity in a couple of minutes. His soldiers formed a circle around it, that was soon strengthened by the squad of templars that had arrived at the scene.

The rift shot an angry spark and widened, Cullen could swear he saw something moving inside it. Hairs stood up on the back of his neck as a strong wave of magic hit the courtyard, making both him and the templars shift anxiously.

And then a figure jumped out. People in the front row stepped back and Cullen recognized the shape immediately, his eyes widening in surprise.

The Inquisitor, however, seemed to be fully preoccupied with the rift. She jumped aside and started closing it when yet another strong wave of magic had hit them, making all the templars, Cullen and the Inquisitor, grab their heads. The Commander felt something warm trickling down his lips. _Blood._ This is when he saw, to his astonishment, two more figures tumbling out of the rift. It was difficult to see the faces, for both people were struggling. One of them was wearing a full templar armor and the other looked like a mage. 

"Let me go! You have no right!" the mage was yelling, his voice vaguely familiar even though Cullen could not put his finger on it. The man finally took a good aim and planted his foot directly at the top of the temlar's helmet. There was a loud clanking sound and the templar let his prey go, shaking his head and taking the helmet off, once again, grabbing the man by the front of his robe.

"I have every right, _mage_."

The loud crack behind them announced the Inquisitor closing the rift, and finally, without the greenish light distorting his vision, Cullen could take a good look at the two men who had followed the Inquisitor through the rift. The crowd had erupted in gasps and whispers, while Cullen had to lean on his sword or his legs might just had given out from under him.

The templar was Cullen Stanton Rutherford and the mage he had been holding, man's face a mixture of anger and fear, was none other then Anders, the most hated human being in Thedas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of wish Anders was present in the game to witness the mess he had created. So if the game does not provide me the delicious angst, I provide it for myself.
> 
> And, who I am not to throw my Trevelyan into a nice doppelganger man-sandwich? And a add a quirky mage to the mix? Hell yesss.


	2. As Equals

The courtyard was full of people. Yelling came from everywhere. Gwendolynn thought she had recognized Cassandra's voice ordering someone to 'shackle that mage immediately.' She saw Cullen navigating his way through the crowd - a mixture of worry and relief on his pale face. The Commander had finally made his way to the Inquisitor and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Gwend - uh, the Inquisitor! It is such a relief to see you alive!" he mumbled but then regained his composure and cleared his throat, fist curling around the pommel of his sword. "What, in Maker's name, is going on? These men..."

Behind them the two strangers were having a heated discussion of their own. The templar was holding the mage by the throat, face dark with anger.

"Whatever magic you used, it is about time you use it again, _mage_." he gave the other man a shake, his lip pulled up in a snarl.

"I did not do it!"

"Wrong answer." the templar growled and raised a gauntleted fist, ready to strike.

In one leap the Inquisitor found herself near the templar and, without a second thought, slapped him across the face. Shocked, he let the mage go, poor man falling on his knees and breathing heavily. The templar lifted his head, one cheek blazing red from the slap, the Inquisitor's palm print getting more visible by the second. Cullen's face. Strikingly similar in everything but the scar, which was absent. His hair was longer, parted at the side and falling over his ears in messy golden waves. As to the rest... The stance, the mimics, the voice - all of it was their Commander. To a 'C'. 

"Your name." behind her Cullen was eying his counterpart suspiciously. The Inquisitor did not even had to turn around to know that - the icy undertone in his voice was more then enough. The templar straightened up, his face, no doubt, reflecting the same kind of distrust Cullen had plastered all over his.

"I am Knight - Commander Cullen Rutherford of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi."

"Knight - Commander?" Cullen stuttered, confusion in his voice. "A - and what about Meredith?"

"On what charges were you inclined to harass this man?"the Inquisitor glared at the Knight - Commander. 

Cullen, who now came closer, gave Gwendolynn a surprised stare.

"Inquisitor, you can't be serious! You do recognise him, right?"

Of course she did. For a while after the explosion of the Chantry in Kirkwall, his face had been posted all over the walls of every city in Free Marches. According to the information coming directly from Kirkwall, Anders had been killed. The city guard had failed to recover the body and to avoid the possibility of the mage getting away with an act of terror, he had been put on the wanted list. The Knight - Commander kept looking at her, brow furrowed.

"You are a templar. Why do you defend this _filth_? Do you even _know_ what he is?" he kicked Anders, the mage narrowly avoiding a boot to the face. "Show her!"

"Enough!" snapped Gwendolynn, standing between the _other_ Cullen and his prey. "I am well aware of what he is. But I will _not_ tolerate mindless violence. Commander," she turned to Cullen. "Lock them both up till further notice."

Cullen nodded and signalled several of his soldiers, who, without much trouble restrained both Anders and Knight - Commander, leading them away. The mage kept looking around, curious to everything while the templar kept staring ahead of him, jowls tightened. Cullen watched them leave and then turned to the Inquisitor, who was rubbing her temples carefully.

"Care to explain?"

"Absolutely. Once I figure it out myself." she muttered and then rubbed her jaw. "I let Hawke and Ser Alistair go first but then the Nightmare, Void take him, blocked my path. I - I got scared it would still come through and so I closed the rift."

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling Cullen's arm carefully sliding around her shoulders and nudging her a bit closer to him. She nuzzled his neck, for a moment forgetting that there were people around. The Commander's presence was very comforting.

"And then I ran as hard as I could. There was an eluvian... It looked active. So I jumped in without second thought and ended up in some chantry, stuffed with templars, surrounding that mage, Anders." Gwendolynn stopped for a second, watching soldiers scurrying across the courtyard. "Dorian theorized, that if I concentrate enough, I could open rifts where I need them to be. So I tried that and, against better judgement, went through. It worked out. Though, it seems these two had followed me."

They both fell silent for a while and then Gwendolynn felt Cullen's muscles getting tense, his fingers digging into her shoulder.

"The Knight - Commander. It's me, isn't it?" Cullen's voice strained and when the Inquisitor looked up, she saw him turn away, right hand clutching the pommel of the sword so tight Gwen thought he might actually bend it.

"You are you, Cullen. Whatever he is..."

"But it _could_ be me. I -" he paused, looking at her, eyes dark on the pale face. "I was just like that, long time ago. Lots of anger. Let _things_ get to me. Treated mages like animals and thought they deserved it..."

Cullen's arm fell off the Inquisitor's shoulder as he stood there, slumping and staring at his feet. Gwendolynn lifted his chin with two fingers and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

"But you don't feel that way anymore. Keep that in mind. As to the Knight - Commander," she looked in the direction where the prisoners had been taken. "We'll see what his deal is."

***

The cell door got locked behind him and Anders found himself to be engulfed in complete darkness. He carefully walked around the small room, groping the walls and the floor to get a better picture of where he was. As soon as his hands found the straw bed, he settled down on the ground, back against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing slowly. 

Today had been a _horrible_ day. Being an apostate in Kirkwall was bad. Being a possessed apostate in Kirkwall was an act of suicide. Being a possessed apostate in Kirkwall that tries to raise awareness about the plight of the mages... Well, as pleasant as a lyrium brand right in the groin. And yet Anders could not bring himself to leave. The Ferelden Circle, compared to the Circle in Kirkwall seemed like a seat at the Maker's side. For a while his underground work went quite well and he even managed to gather some followers. Stirring the hearts of the people with his charm was easy enough. 

But then the templars got a whiff of who had been behind the 'unruly' activities and once the Knight - Commander had acquired his phylactery it all went straight to the Void. At this point even Justice agreed the best course of action was to flee, something Anders was _very_ good at. That plan went astray as well, for templars had been waiting for him and had efficiently herded him into a Chantry building. They were about to gang up on him when a woman appeared out of the _mirror_ and proceeded to open something that looked like a portal, stepping into it. His options were very limited by that point, the fear of templars making him Tranquil so strong, Anders madly dashed after her. As it turned out, the Knight - Commander was one determined son of a whore and had followed.

Now then they had ended up here. Wherever this _here_ was. Anders did not fail to notice people staring at him with fear and disgust painted all over their faces. The woman, the Knight - Commander said she was a templar, stood up for him. She claimed to know who he was, even though Anders had never seen her in his entire life. _Unprecedented._

"How very strange." he said to himself, grinning in the dark.

Someone stirred in the cell next door, metal scraping against the stone.

"How does it feel to sit in a prison together with a mage. As, _equals_ , no less?"

"Shut up."

"Now now, Knight - Commander! The way that lady slapped you? I hope it wedged the stick out of your ass somewhat. Must be _really_ uncomfortable living like that." Anders clicked his tongue, smiling at the low growl that came as a reply.

"Oh this is _fun_!"

It seemed the templar had decided to ignore him but the delightful damage had been done. Anders slid down the wall and settled on the straw thin bed, closing his eyes. He had plenty of time to gather his thoughts and catch some sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stick up Knight - Commander's ass is THE BIGGEST STICK IN THE UNIVERSE.
> 
> You go, Anders, rub it in.
> 
> And poor Cullen, nobody likes to face own demons. Especially when they are not just in your head but are brooding just in front of you.


	3. Anders of the Ferelden Circle of Magi

"It is _him_ , Inquisitor." Cassandra crossed her arms on her chest, eyes set on Cullen's face. "Commander, you had more then enough dealings with that mage, you can confirm his identity."

Cullen shifted uncomfortably and shot a quick glance in the direction of the Inquisitor. So far she refused to hear anything he had to say on the matter, insisting that there is more to it. Her reasoning - if there was another _Cullen_ in the dungeon, the probability of Anders being someone else was just as high.

"Yes, Cassandra, I had met him in the past."

"Then why is that _terrorist_ still breathing?" the Seeker bristled.

"You are being foolish," the Inquisitor's tone was cold and rather unfriendly. For the past day two days everyone had been badgering her about the newcomers. Most of people were interested to know when will she publicly execute the mage whose actions lay at the core of the Mage Rebellion. "We know nothing about that man, save that he bears the face of Anders from the Ferelden Circle. Who, if I recall correctly, was killed during the massacre in Kirkwall."

"So says the dwarf." scoffed Cassandra and rested her hands on the table. "And he is a _storyteller_."

"But we have the word of Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven, who had allegedly driven the blade through the mage." Leliana noted quietly, observing the people around the table.

"Thank you!" the Inquisitor gestured dramatically and looked at both Cassandra and Cullen, who were the united front against her on this matter. "I understand your reservations about Varric, I really do. But the word of Prince Vael is to be reckoned with."

"I am with the Inquisitor on this matter," Leliana pulled out one of the parchments she brought in with her. "Here is the account of the Prince about the events in Kirkwall he had partaken in. The man confirms that when Hawke profoundly refused to kill the mage, he did so himself. If I am to quote - 'Both for justice and for mercy, for the man he had been was in there no more.' "

Cassandra made a disgusted noise, fingers tapping lightly at the surface of the table. Cullen felt the same kind of frustration and the headache that was pounding at the back of his head did not make him feel any better. It seemed their small council had deadlocked, the Inquisitor being as inflexible as the Seeker.

"You cannot ignore the peculiar behaviour the Knight - Commander exhibits in his presence," Cullen had finally broken the silence, trying to massage his aching neck as inconspicuously as possible. "There must be..."

"According to Varric," the Inquisitor interrupted him, the level of annoyance in her voice almost palpable. "Several years ago a certain Knight - _Captain_ had not been much different."

Cullen's mouth twitched in an aggravated snarl. She got him. And she got him good. The reason why he hated the mere sight of that templar so much was because he reminded Cullen of himself. He tried very hard to grow past his sorrows and Cullen thought he made good progress, considering where he had started his journey.

"Why are you defending this..." he spoke and bit his tongue, realizing he said it exactly in the same tone the Knight - Commander did.

_Evidently not, dammit._

"Cullen," her gaze softened somewhat and she looked around the room, pausing at Cassandra who was still frowning. "You all know my opinion on mages. I am as careful as the next person in this room. But considering the _circumstances_ , we owe him the benefit of the doubt. I'll talk to both of them."

"I do not think it is wise for you to go alone, Inquisitor," Cullen had immediately stepped forward, palm on the hilt of the sword and worry in his eyes. "The templar seemed... volatile."

Gwendolynn smiled, sly sparkles in her grey eyes.

"I'll be completely fine, ser Knight In Shining Armor." she nodded to the rest of her advisors. "As you were."

Before the heavy wooden door had closed behind her back, Gwendolynn heard someone giggling and the Commander mumble something about 'not meaning it _that_ way'.

***

The door to the dungeon swung open and Anders jumped up from the floor, latching himself onto the bars. The footsteps were heavier then the ones of an elf who brought them food for the past two days but lighter then the heavy stride of the guard. Soon enough he saw a woman - the same one who stood between him and the Knight - Commander earlier. She walked past the templar and stopped in front of his cell, stern expression on her face. The gut told Anders that this was his time to shine, if he ever wanted to get out of this alive. He grinned at the woman in front of him. She smiled back, politely and cocked her head.

"Tell me, what's your name?"

"Anders, officially of the Ferelden Circle of Magi. And I use the term 'officially' very loosely."

"Anything else to add?" her intonation was very plain, the woman obviously was trying to hide her true intentions but made it clear she knew more about Anders than, perhaps, he himself did.

"Grey Warden. Though the Hero of Ferelden had been kind enough to give me a leave of absence. I am not very fond of closeted spaces full of grim righteous arses. I.. I am also a _very_ skilled healer."

"Don't forget the 'abomination', mage. A minor detail not worth mentioning, it seems?" a venomous voice came from the neighbouring cell, sound of the clanking armor announcing the templar stood up as well.

The woman's eyebrows flew up. But it was not in surprise, he noticed. She was well aware of _that_ as well. Did he just bust his only chance?

"Um, ah, yes... There's that," Anders mumbled, eyes flickering between the woman and the floor as he squeezed his fingers anxiously. "I, uh, I carry the spirit of Justice within myself. He was my friend. I wanted to help..."

"A demon. You are possessed by a demon!" the templar slammed his armored fist at the bars in aggravation. "Call it as it is!"

"It is _not_... a demon!" Anders' voice trembled and for a second the Inquisitor saw his eyes flashing bright blue, going back to the normal brown almost immediately.

She saw it. He almost lost control and she was there to witness it. Anders panicked and bit his lip. Usually he had a good grip on Justice and the spirit rarely took over without permission but if Anders was in distress the chances of Justice coming out were upped astronomically.

"What were you doing in Kirkwall?" her voice came through and he blinked, surprised by a fact his outburst was completely ignored.

"Hiding, at first. And then I had the dubious pleasure of witnessing Knight - Commander in action. These mages... They were so beaten down by his rabid templars, they were scared to even make a sound. I couldn't stand idle!"

The woman hummed thoughtfully and rubbed her chin, pondering. Anders saw his chance.

"You've never told me your name."

"At this point you can refer to me as 'The Inquisitor'."

"That is a rather... grizzly title for a beautiful woman such as yourself."

The Inquisitor arched her eyebrow, sparkle of laughter in her eyes. It had died immediately and she regained her serious composure.

"So, how did you 'call out to the mages'?"

"Pamphlets, small diversions to make templar life more difficult... Nothing extreme. I just wanted those circle mages to, you know, get inspired." 

This was completely true. Meeting the Hero of Ferelden has changed his perspective on life considerably. These people went out of their way to help an apostate, fully knowing how displeasing to some it would be. All his life Anders had to care only for himself. When he had finally decided to help, he did not know where to start and Justice, the spirit he had befriended, offered a solution. Justice gave him the drive to do good Anders did not have before. It had been both invigorating and strenuous at times, for the spirit had little distinction between right and wrong, as long as the end goal was righteous. But Anders had been managing his situation well enough. Until recently, when the templars starting hounding him. 

"Is he telling the truth?" the Inquisitor turned to the Knight - Commander, whose amber eyes followed her every movement.

"Yes," he admitted irritably. "In the beginning he had been a minor nuisance we wanted gone. But then I sent some men to apprehend him - "

" _Apprehend_ me?" Anders scoffed. "Your templars threw me on the ground and started beating me up. In my clinic. _In front of my patients._

" - to apprehend him," the templar raised his voice just a bit. "And then he manifested his _true_ nature, Inquisitor."

Anders chewed his lip in frustration. The templars were beating him up so hard he had passed out, at which point Justice took over and when Anders came to, he found himself hiding in some cellar in the docks, with the spirit saying he might have wounded some templars in self - defence. Anders had to bite his knuckle not to scream then, realizing this was beginning of an end. And, sweet Andraste, he was right.

"So you were not planning anything extreme, were you?"

"I am not that kind of person, Inquisitor."

"He is telling the truth." a small lanky figure had suddenly appeared from behind the woman. Weirdly dressed and fumbling with his hands. Anders felt Justice stir, something in this boy felt familiar to the spirit. "Scared. Scarred. I told her everything. She saw him. Justice, stop! I can't..."

Anders moaned and fell on his knees, clawing at his scalp. He threw head backwards and screamed, the voice distorting into something else. His head snapped forward again, the Inquisitor staring in the eyes, completely hidden behind the blue glow, similar energy traversing in glowing patterns under his skin.

"Little Compassion." Anders addressed Cole in the same Fade-distorted voice, making the boy step forward. "You are not like us."

"No, I am me." Cole answered, staring in the eyes of the mage. "He is hurting. You both are." 

"I can't help him. But _you_ can. I forced through to ask this of you."

"I will help, friend."

It seemed to satisfy Justice and the glow disappeared, making Anders fall unconscious on the floor. The Inquisitor opened the door and yelled for the guards to take the mage upstairs to the healer. When that had been taken care of, the Inquisitor turned to the Knight - Commander, who kept his hands clutched around the bars. When he dropped his arms, the Inquisitor noticed his fingers were trembling. The first sign of the lyrium withdrawal.

"Here, I have something for you." she reached through the bars, small vial in her hand. He took it, a trace of gratitude on his face and gulped it down, closing his eyes and releasing a small satisfied huff. 

"What are you going to do with me, _Inquisitor_?" those amber eyes were staring at her, waiting for a verdict. They were Cullen's and yet they... were not. There was something stern and grim in them, something her Commander did not have.

"I have no quarrel with you, Knight - Commander Cullen. If you promise to be on your best behaviour and leave the mage, Anders, alone, I will let you go."

"And where will I go then?" he asked bitterly. "It's not like I can just go back to _my_ Kirkwall."

"People are trying to figure a way back for you as we speak."

The templar fell silent, twirling the empty lyrium vial in his fingers.

"May I request to join your company for a time being?" his voice had softened and now it seemed she was talking to the Commander of the Inquisition's forces again. "I cannot sit idle and wait purposelessly. If your cause is just, I would like to contribute to it, in any way possible."

"I cannot see why not." the Inquisitor smiled, and purely out of reflex, gently put her hand on top of his. There was a pause, during which Gwendolynn realized what she had done and yanked her hand away, blushing slightly. The man in front of her did not fail to notice that. "The guards will show you to your quarters. Talk to our quartermaster about your lyrium supply, ser Rutherford."

With that she left, door closing behind her. Cullen looked at the hand and then back at the door, frowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This somehow turned out to be a very dialogue heavy huge (to my regular standarts) Anders - heavy chapter. It wrote itself, practically.As most of my fics do. Planning is for the weak, I say. >.>
> 
> No worries, Knight - Commander will get his time under the spotlight soon enough. ;) Personally, I am looking forward to it. :P


	4. The Two Lions

He walked the battlements, this had been the best way to avoid most of the crowd. They all stared. He could hear hushed whispers behind his back. It had been the same back in Kirkwall but right now the reason was completely different. In Kirkwal he was in control. Here he was powerless, thrown at the mercy of that Inquisitor woman. There were mages in Skyhold. Too few to cause any real trouble but their presence, the Inquisitor allowing them to simply mingle, was unnerving. Especially one of her frequent companions, the Tevinter, made his skin crawl. It has been a relief to learn there were templars stationed at the fortress as well. He tried to approach the knights but they seemed unwilling to socialize, their suspicious stares like daggers to his ego. Some of them he even recognized but he had to remind himself one simple thing. These were not _his_ templars, they were under the command of that _other one_.

He stopped and leaned out over the wall a bit, to see what was going on in the cort yard. A training ring had been built there and usually it was full of soldiers. Not right now, it seemed. He noticed the Inquisitor and the Tevinter mage were sparring. The woman had the mechanics nailed down. She had a very good grip on technical aspect of using the shield to provide appropriate defence and block the incoming spells. But the Inquisitor was too slow to notice the subtle openings in mage's defences. The kind that a seasoned templar would not miss.

***

"How long are you going to be on the defence, Inquisitor?" the cheek in Dorian's voice made Gwen purse her lips together and she used the Holy Smite. The mage had avoided it but just barely. 

"Not bad, Inquisitor. You have potential." a slow clapping came from behind them.

"Cul - ," Gwendolynn turned around, staring at the tall figure clad in full templar armor, sunshine bouncing off the polished surface. "My apologies, ser Rutherford, I mistook you for my Commander."

"An honest mistake to make," his tone stayed polite enough but the Inquisitor did not fail to notice irritation flash in his eyes. The next second his expression became unreadable once again. "How long have you been a templar?"

"Inquisitor, I'll leave you to it," Dorian budged in. "You actually made me break a sweat. Unacceptable!"

Gwendolynn laughed and waved at him, as the mage picked up his staff and headed back to his quarters. She, then, turned to face the templar. His stance seemed more relaxed, now that Dorian was gone.

"You were saying?"

He cleared his throat, a habit she was all too familiar with, usually followed by the awkward neck rubbing. In this, case, however, the templar just smiled curtly and nodded at her shield.

"How long have you been a templar, Inquisitor? I've noticed you are lacking some, ah, basic knowledge."

Gwen paused and leaned on her shield. Cullen had been in slight distress over her decision to take lyrium and she did not want to bother him about her training, especially since his own skills as a templar had diminished greatly. The Commander could still sense magic well enough, its close presence giving him great discomfort, but he was not able to use any of his abilities to counter it. 

"I am not a part of the Order, if that is what you are asking," she said finally, running the fingers over the rim of her shield. "I did not undergo the Vigil, I am just taking lyrium and using the benefits it provides to fight our enemy more effectively."

"Templar out of a dire need then?" he asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I can't say I find that the right decision."

"Cullen is of the same opinion," she admitted defiantly, staring right into the Knight - Commander's eyes. "But I dare to disagree."

"Cul - ," he started and once again, the same irritation she had noticed before, distorting his features for a brief moment. "Yes, your Commander. He refused to help, I assume?"

"I did not ask it of him. The Commander has his own problems to deal with. But... Can I help you with anything, Knight - Commander?"

He examined her from top to toe and brushed the golden fringe out of his eyes.

"Would you care for a sparring match, Inquisitor? You seem like a capable partner."

"Oh?" this request came as a surprise to Gwendolynn. She plunged her training sword into the ground and leaned on it, eying the man in front of her. "Is there nobody else?"

"The other soldiers find my company, uh -, " and then his hand reached for his neck, eyes flickering away shyly. It took a lot of self - control for Gwen not to snort out loud. " - undesirable."

"Alright then," the Inquisitor shrugged her shoulders and picked up the shield. "I'll humour you, Knight - Commander."

The templar walked towards the weapon rack and picked up a sword, weighting it in his hand. The man looked satisfied enough but then shot a look in Inquisitor's direction and put the sword aside, grabbing one of the shields.

"You handle your defence well enough," he said, his tone changing to that of an educator. "Let me show you how you can use it to its full potential, Lady Inquisitor."

With that he took a defensive stance and beckoned her to attack. Gwendolynn sprinted towards the templar and rammed him with her shield. A sound of colliding wood and metal echoed through the courtyard as she saw him gracefully slide sideways. While the Inquisitor still tried to regain the balance after the impact, the templar hit her with the shield and she stumbled forward, spinning around and covering her front just in time, for the opponent's armored fist crushed against the wood, sending splinters in the air.

"Well done," Knight - Commander commented dryly. "But, you left your sword hand open."

With the frightening speed he reached out for the Inquisitor's right wrist and twisted it behind her back, making Gwen drop her sword. She hissed in frustration. Gwendolynn considered herself to be a skilled warrior, she even sparred with the Commander back at Haven a couple of times. When accepting Knight - Commander's challenge the Inquisitor thought she knew what to expect. Now Gwen started to get suspicious - either Cullen went too easy on her back then or the self - confidence got the better of her.

"It comes with practice, Inquisitor. You are still a very good opponent and you should be proud of yourself."

His breath tickled her ear, stubble scratching the cheek in a way that had been so eerily familiar, it sent shivers down her spine. The Inquisitor's back touched his chest, the Knight - Commander still holding her arm but not hurting her. Gwen felt her cheeks blushing.

"Inquisitor, Josephine is looking for you." the voice came from the left and Gwendolynn snapped her head to see Cullen standing there, parchments in his hands and a blank expression on his face. The voice, however, the voice told it all. Icy - cold but not directed at her, Cullen's eyes very clearly burning holes in the Knight - Commander's face.

"I, uh - yes, thank you, Commander." she muttered and put her equipment back at the rack, turning to the templar. "Thank you for your time, ser Rutherford."

The Inquisitor left, but Cullen did not move. He sized the Knight - Commander, eyes narrowed to slits.

"Don't come near her."

"The Inquisitor can decide that for herself, _Commander._ "

"I do _not_ repeat myself twice." Cullen's fingers dug into the parchments, the sound of paper tearing oddly audible.

The Knight - Commander's face was as calm as ever and he adjusted the strap of his gauntlet casually.

"I was just helping her out. Something you, the Commander of her forces, failed to do," he slowly breathed in through the nose and curled the corners of his lips up . "Tell me, _Commander Cullen_ , how long had it been since you stopped taking lyrium? Feeling the withdrawal yet?"

The Commander's lip pulled up in a sneer and his right arm twitched towards the sword at his side.

"Is this why you sit at the desk in your high tower day after day? Instead of going out in the field, like you _should_?"

" _Shut up._ You have _no_ idea what I went through. _Why_ I do what I do. You have _no_ right to judge me!"

"Or, perhaps, I do?"

With a growl Cullen turned around and started walking away, his face distorted with rage and his own voice behind him.

"Run away, Commander. From what I've heard, you seem like a man that is _very_ good at that."

***

She came to his quarters later that evening, after running through some diplomatic chores that could not wait any longer. She expected to see Cullen still working, he always stayed up late to finish the workload that seemed to never end. Instead the Inquisitor found him pacing around the study, hands crossed behind his back. The place seemed to be in a disarray - there were books on the floor, papers were shoved off the desk, broken glass cracked underneath Gwen's boots.

"Cullen? What's..."

"Oh, Inquisitor, I - it's nothing." he stopped and turned around, looking rather guilty.

"It does not look like nothing," she came closer and ran a hand through Cullen's hair, making him lean a bit backwards and sigh in relief. "Talk to me. Is this about _him_?"

"Yes," Cullen turned to face her but his gaze was all over the place, never meeting that of the Inquisitor. "I - I just... Could you not come near him anymore?"

"Why would you say something like that?" she frowned.

"He is not a good man."

"Do you have any base for these accusations?" Gwen was starting to get impatient. First he was pressing her about the mage. Now, since Anders was innocent, Cullen seemed to switch to the Knight - Commander. She suspected that he was simply jealous. "All he did was offering me some help with my fighting technique. Something I did not want to bother _you_ about."

"I -," he sighed and pinched his nose bridge. "You are an adult woman, our Inquisitor and you can do what you want. Just _please_ consider my warning. _Stay away from him._ "

"I'll keep it in mind, Cullen."

 _You won't..._

"Now, let me help you to clean up this mess." she said and kissed the corner of his mouth, proceeding to bend down to pick up one of the books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He may be not a 'good' man but he sure is 'daym boy you look fiiiine all over' man.
> 
> Is Cullen really just jealous and cautious or is thee something more he is not telling? Because such animosity, much wow.
> 
> And what of the Knight - Commander? He seems really unimpressed with Cullen as well.
> 
> ISSUE GALORE ALL OVER.


	5. Enough Is Enough

Anders wiped the small bottle with his sleeve and put it amongst the other ones on the shelf. Paused for a second and pushed it an inch backwards. Perfect. The Inquisitor was kind enough and granted him a small shed that he made into his clinic on the ground floor and small living quarters above. There had been guards posted outside his door day and night but Anders understood the necessity. If anything, he welcomed it. The residents of Skyhold were polite enough but he could see their eyes - full of disdain and poorly masked hatred. Even his fellow mages were not too keen to be seen anywhere near him. Whatever his counterpart had done in this world, it must have been horrible enough to earn such a reputation and Anders had no courage to ask about it. He _knew_ nobody would seek help at his clinic but Anders hated to sit idle and so he approached the herbalist of the Inquisiton, asking if she needed any help with making potions and salves. The elven woman stared at the mage for a while and then gave him the list. And so Anders started on the orders.

He was whistling quietly and stirring the contents of the small pot when the door behind him has opened unexpectedly. Anders turned around, wooden spoon in his hand, ready to defend himself, if needed. It might have been a spoon but a small fire spell would make it so much more. 

"Whoah, Blondie. You are as feisty as I remember."

The red - haired dwarf in front of him grinned and crossed the arms on his well - displayed chest. Anders knew the man back in Kirkwall. He was the one that sought him out in Darktown for a warden map Anders had taken with him when he left. The dwarf and his brother needed an entrance to the Deep Roads and Anders showed them where it is. The mage, however, refused to go inside for he had enough of the crammed hallways full of darkspawn to last him a lifetime. Some time later the dwarf had returned with the promised share of the profits he made and that was the end of the story.

"Serah Tethras," Anders had finally remembered the man's name and smiled politely.

"Oh, so we've met then?" the dwarf's grin became a bit wider. "It's just _Varric_ , by the way. So, tell me, how did we meet?"

"You and your brother needed my help to find the entrance to the Deep Roads. Promised to invest in my clinic,"  
Anders put the spoon down and extinguished the fire underneath the pot - the mixture was at the right temperature by now. "It was a generous offer, one I gratefully took."

"And?" Varric looked interested. He pulled a small chair with his foot towards him and settled down, taking the crossbow off his back and putting it against the wall, within his reach.

"And nothing," Anders shrugged his shoulders. "When the profits rolled in, you brought me my share and we've parted ways."

"That boring, huh? My guy was quite a bit more adventurous."

"Your guy?" Anders blinked and then smiled. "Oh, you mean the _other_ Anders. You knew him well, I take it?"

"I thought I did," was the somber answer. It made Anders' skin crawl. He opened his mouth to ask and then just closed it, turning away. That did not escape Varric's notice. "You want to ask what he did."

"I -," Anders' throat felt drier then the plains of Anderfels. "I am not sure... The way people look... They _hate_ me. And I want to know why but at the same time I kind of... don't?"

"Tell me, Blondie, what did you learn about this world?" Varric's expression was calm, his eyes following the mage, who started pacing around the small study. Anders' eyes shined feverishly as he met the dwarf's gaze.

"I've heard something about the mage and the templar conflict, that took its roots in Kirkwall. And no wonder," he added angrily. "The things Knight - Commander let his templars get away with..."

"Ah, I see," Varric's tone remained calm but Anders did not fail to notice his gaze darkening. "The _other_ Anders thought along those lines as well. And you know what he did? Set a bomb inside the chantry, killing Grand Cleric Elthina and prompting the templars to invoke the Right of Annulment."

Anders froze, his eyes wide open in disbelief. When his lungs started to burn from the lack of air, he took small breaths, fists clenching rhythmically.

"I would never - ," he squeezed out, voice high and shaky. "Never that. _Never_."

Varric pushed a stool in the mage's direction and Anders collapsed on it, running fingers through his hair and staring madly at the dwarf.

"The moral of the story is," Varric raised a finger in the air. "Don't make questionable deals with the things out of the Fade. You see, my friend had merged with a spirit of Justice. Once he had confessed, that the moment it had happened something felt wrong. Justice pushed, prodded and chipped away at the mage till, eventually, nothing was left to salvage."

Anders hung his head, Varric's words lingering in his mind. _Spirit of Justice._ From time to time the spirit would propose some actions that Anders would classify too iffy or too drastic. Anders would make him aware of that and Justice would back off without much protest. As long as the mage was doing _something_ , it seemed his friend was satisfied enough.

"Hey Blondie, you weren't making any deals with the spirits back in your world, were you?" Varric's voice reached his ears and Anders lifted his head, rubbing his forehead slowly.

"I -"

"You know what? I don't want to know," Varric threw his arms up. "Just... Be careful, Anders. That's all I'm saying," the dwarf stood up and picked up his crossbow, pausing in the doorway for a moment. "By the way, don't be a stranger! Maker knows, you look like you could use a friend. And, if you are anything like that other guy, you should be a worthy opponent for a game of Wicked Grace."

The door had closed behind Varric, leaving Anders alone in the middle of the room with his shoulders slumped as an almost inaudible sob had escaped his mouth.

***

Cullen picked up the pace. Yet another sleepless night. The aching in his joints was so bad he could not lie still long enough to actually fall asleep. After about three hours of tossing and turning, Cullen had abandoned his futile attempts and stood up, downing one of the elf root potions the herbalist had given him. It was not strong enough to get rid of the pain but it numbed down the throbbing and helped greatly with the swelling in the joints - yet another symptom of the withdrawal that kicked in recently. Cullen's wrists were particularly painful and he had to take great care not to lean on his hands too much.

As he entered the War Room, the others were already present. One look at the Commander's face was enough and no questions were asked. The Inquisitor gave him a reassuring smile and Cullen wondered if he looked anything like he felt. The most accurate description would be 'a pile of nug shit.'

"Ladies," he nodded curtly, forcing a smile.

"Now then, shall we - ," the Inquisitor got interrupted mid sentence by the knock on the door. Leliana walked towards it, letting the visitor in. Cullen straightened his back and grit his teeth together, watching the Knight - Commander smiling politely at the members of the council. The rest, save Leliana, seemed to be as surprised as Cullen was.

"I though we could use a fresh perspective." Leliana said, eying the dumbstruck members of the council. 

Josephine cleared her throat and gave the Spymaster a frustrated glare.

"Leliana! Such things should be put up for _discussion_. We cannot just - "

"Oh hush, Josie, it is not big deal."

"In fact it is," Cullen started talking, trying to keep the tone of his voice steady. "Bringing an outsider to the meeting. Without our consent... What's gotten into you?!"

"I inquired Sister Nightingale about the possibility of witnessing one of your meetings," the Knight - Commander intervened. "As per Inquisitor's permission I was allowed to try and contribute to your cause."

"Inquisitor's - ," Cullen glared at Gwendolynn, to which she shrugged and nodded.

"Ser Rutherford wanted to be of help to us." she said curtly.

Cullen resisted the urge to storm out. Was his advice so meaningless they had to ask someone else to be present? _Him_? Do they not realise how humiliating this is? He slammed his hands on the table, wrists sending a jolt of pain up his arms.

"Right then. Shall I go first?"

"By all means, Commander." Josephine's voice was still wary and she shimmied closer to the Inquisitor.

"Leliana's scouts had reported two Venatori camps here," he pointed to the small areas near Crestwood and Fallow Mire. "And here. Considering the camps are not amongst the smallest we had encountered so far, I would propose for us to send a squad of templars to one of them and then, subsequently, get rid of the other one."

"And lose the precious time you have? With a high possibility of the other camp get alerted by the sudden silence?" the Knight - Commander stepped in, frowning. "The best course of action would be to separate the templars into two groups and assign a squad of soldiers to each."

"We are dealing with mages. _Tevinter mages._ Separation of the templars and the foot soldiers assisting them would lead to higher casualties on our side."

"And your point being?" not a single muscle moved on Knight - Commander's face as he lifted his head from the map and looked at Cullen.

_Maker preserve me, he thinks them..._

"My men are _not_ disposable." Cullen growled, his voice vibrating with badly masked anger. "Some of the soldiers are not yet skilled enough to stand against seasoned mages."

"They signed up to be a part of your Inquisiton. To fight for it. And to die for it," Cullen noticed the note of irritation in the Knight - Commander's intonation as the man sneered in disgust. "Your soldiers are your weapons, the first line of defence. And instead you _coddle_ them."

"If that is what you call it, not treating my men as a target practice for the enemy then yes, Maker take you, I _am_ coddling them, you piece of sh - "

" _Enough!_ " the Inquisitor barked and rubbed her temples. "Ser Rutherford, would you leave us? We will talk later."

The Knight - Commander took a short bow and exited the room. Cullen counted to sixty and followed the man as well. As his hand touched the door handle, the Inquisitor called out to him, her brow furrowed.

"Commander, please wait outside."

"Yes, Inquisitor." he answered quietly, so ashamed of himself he wished to be anywhere but here right now.

***

As the door behind the Commander had closed, Gwendolynn turned to Leliana, her cheeks flushed in anger.

" _Why_ would you do such a thing?! Without consulting anyone of us first? These two cannot be anywhere near each other!"

"I see that now, Inquisitor," Leliana answered, her face slightly apologetic. "I had misinterpreted the situation."

"You - ," Gwen sighed and closed her eyes. One could hardly blame their Spymaster for expecting two grown men to behave themselves in public. "For better or for worse we now know that this is not going to work."

"It seems to me that the Knight - Commander would prefer to be in the field," Josephine chimed in, ticking the tip of her quill against the board she was holding. "We could, perhaps, oblige?"

"I am not letting that man out of my sights," the Inquisitor crossed her arms and stared at the world map for a while. "He'll go with me."

"Is that... wise?" Josephine nodded towards the door, obviously implying the Commander, who was, hopefully, still there.

"I will talk to Cullen. For now, meeting adjourned."

Gwendolynn left the War Room and, as she walked into Josephine's study, saw Cullen who was standing in front of the fireplace. The shadows from the flames danced on his face, making the Commander look even more exhausted. Gwen slid her arms around his waist, burying the face in the fur of his mantle.

"I am sorry... That man. I can't - " Cullen muttered and shivered, his voice mere whisper.

"You are not him."

"I try not to be," was the curt answer. He turned around, holding Gwendolynn by the shoulders. "What I am now... I worked hard not be _him_. And yet... I still am. I know what he thinks. I know _how_ he thinks."

"Cullen," Gwen stroked his hair, trailing her fingers through his soft golden locks. She wanted to tell him she understood. But did she really? Who can possibly comprehend the complexity of such situation? She stroked his cheek gently. "Just remember how far you've gotten."

"What about the Knight - Commander?"

"I will make sure you see as little of him as possible."

"How?" he frowned slightly, his suspicion growing by the second. When the Inquisitor had averted her gaze, Cullen lifted her chin up, the answer in her eyes. "Gwendolynn, _don't you dare._ "

"I am sorry, Cullen, but it had been decided," she replied slowly, not daring to look at the Commander's face. Afraid to see the pain and disappointment. "He joins me in the field from now on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to not be able to get off this angst train. 
> 
> ITJUST KEEPS ROLLING IN. 
> 
> I think poor Anders and Cullen need a ray of sunshine in their life. Sexy!Shit!Cullen needs to be disciplined.
> 
> Also, I hope it is not too jarring that it is so dialogue - heavy. There are way too many people involved, ALL THE DAMN TIME. and none of them want to keep quiet.


	6. The Quiet Type

The days that followed were spent in the preparations for the upcoming trip to the Emerald Graves. According to the information Leliana's scouts had provided, a small Venatori cell was active in the area, using it as a perfect route for its smuggling operations. Gwendolynn had had little time - there were orders to sign, provisions to check and routes to plan. But it still did not escape her notice that Cullen started avoiding her. He had approached her several times trying to change the Inquisitor's mind about the Knight - Commander. When the last attempt had failed, he had toppled the bookshelf on the floor, hissing in rage and walked out, slamming the door behind himself. That was the last time they spoke. Beyond the necessary minimum, that is. He was still the Inquisition's acting Commander and provided the necessary advice but Cullen's gaze would not meet hers and he would be the first one to leave the War Room when the meetings were over. Gwendolynn thought herself right and found that Cullen's behaviour was extremely petty. Unwilling to deal with his shenanigans, Gwen left the Commander alone. There were more pressing matters to attend to. A healer for their party, to be precise. Dorian was good with mending wounds but by asking him to concentrate on healing Gwen could not ignore the wasted damage potential the mage had. This is when she remembered the conversation with Anders. The man, desperately trying to make himself worth saving, bragged about being a healer. And a skilled one, at that. 

This was the reason the Inquisitor had found herself on the doorstep of Anders' little clinic, slightly bewildered by the absence of the guardsmen that were always posted in front of his door. She took a deep breath and knocked lightly. She heard commotion inside, someone whispering and the door flew open, tall and broad figure blocking the doorway.

"Inquisitor," Cullen remarked dryly and pushed past Gwen, without lifting his head.

Gwendolynn opened her mouth to call out to him but Anders had appeared, smiling softly.

"Lady Inquisitor, fancy meeting you here!" he made a mocking bow and gestured inside. "Please come in."

Gwen nodded and followed the mage inside, amazed how much work he put into this small place. The fragrance or herbs hung heavy in the air but it was comforting and relaxing, making the Inquisitor struggle against the urge to yawn.

"Why was the Commander here?"

"Ah, that I cannot answer. If he did not tell you himself, it is not my place to give away his secrets."

"I am very well aware of his lyrium withdrawal, Anders," Gwen pursed her lips together.

"Well then, that's why he was here. Question answered!" the mage exclaimed and crossed the arms on his chest. "What can I do for _you_?"

"Would you like to come with my party to the Emerald Graves? We could use a healer."

"The Tevinter, isn't he your mage?" Anders asked, while quickly sorting through the potions he had made today. It seems he was not the one to sit still.

"Dorian loves to blow things up and to look pretty doing it," the description brought a smile to the Inquisitor's face. "He is a good healer as well but that is not his calling. Or so he says."

Anders paused and rubbed his chin, staring at the floor.

"I do miss being in the field. But I'll have to pass. For several reasons. The most important being the Knight - Commander."

"I could keep him off you." the Inquisitor shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, eying the mage, who made a huff and furrowed his brow, coming closer.

"Inquisitor, listen to me. He is a dangerous man and I know this for a fact. He strives on control and obedience and will go far to achieve it. From anyone. Your Commander said it. I say it. _Be careful around him._ "

Gwen pushed herself up from the chair, her eyes narrowed in annoyance, staring Anders down.

"Oh, did _Commander_ say that? What _else_ did he say, hmm?"

Anders bit his tongue and cursed under his breath. First time Commander Cullen came in here, he wanted information. The man wanted to know anything Anders could tell him about the Knight - Commander's activities. The way the templar handled peculiar situation, relations with his charges... Anything, really. Anders had a lot to say and the more he talked, the more grim and quiet the Commander was becoming.

"Nothing you did not hear, I wager," Anders regained his composure. "Now, to answer your question, Lady Inquisitor. I feel honoured to had been asked but I will have to pass. At least for now."

Gwen had acknowledged his answer with a nod and went outside, without saying goodbye. As she stood there for a moment, ordering her thoughts as the cool breeze brushed her cheeks, she saw a small light in Cullen's tower.

_...He talks to anyone but me..._

It made Gwendolynn mad thinking Cullen told other people about his issues. _Their_ issues. The Inquisitor cracked her knuckles and started to walk towards his quarters. When she burst into his study, the Commander was discussing the tomorrow's plans with a scrawny looking scout. The same one who budged on their first kiss.

 _... Ah yes, Jim..._

"Jim, Commander Cullen and I need to have a little chat. Take your leave."

The coldness in her voice made the scout pull the head in his shoulders and back off through another entrance to the study. Gwen shot a stare at the Commander, to see his jowls tightening, gaze pinned to the papers in front of him.

"Inquisitor," he muttered. "To what do I owe the -"

"Pleasure? I do not think so," Gwen tilted her chin up, staring down the Commander. "I had a little talk with Anders. Turns out _so did you._ "

With a growl Cullen pushed himself upwards applying such strength, that the massive oak chair he was sitting in toppled over. His surcoat swiped over the desk, sending the papers flying.

"Why are you here, Gwendolynn? Don't you have your _precious_ templar to be with?!"

A frustrated grunt boiled in Inquisitor's throat and she planted her fist in the bookshelf, making several heavy tomes fall on the floor, pages rustling.

"Andraste's arse, Cullen! Did I _ever_ give you a reason to distrust me? You are behaving like a chi-"

His lips crashed with hers and Cullen's body pressed her against the bookshelf. His hands were holding her tightly by the shoulders, fingers digging through the leathers and into the skin. Gwen reached out and grabbed onto his hair, pulling his face away for a moment. His amber eyes were glowing with need.

"You are _mine_ , Gwen. He will _not_ have you." 

This was not Commander Cullen she came to know - very awkward in everything he did, even being a gentleman. This Cullen... _This_ one she liked a lot. Powerful, willful and decisive. He knew what he wanted. And all it took was the Knight - Commander to rile him up like that.

_... But isn't the Knight - Commander exactly - ..._

Cullen's tongue had interrupted the Inquisitor's line of thought. She answered his kiss, pressing her hips to his and grinding against his erection slightly, making the Commander groan as he began unbuckling her vest. When that did not go quick enough, he pulled Gwen's collar aside and pressed his lips to her neck, teasing the flesh with his tongue, nipping and sucking. The Inquisitor muttered something inaudible between panting, in which only 'bedroom' was distinguishable.

"No." was the answer as her top fell on the floor and Cullen's strong hands ripped the breastband in two. 

He cupped her breasts, without even bothering to take the leather gloves off, rough material scratching over the nipples, making Gwendolynn arch her back, trembling hands unlacing his breeches. Last think Gwendolynn could clearly recall had been Cullen swiftly bending her over the table and pulling her pants down with one hand, while holding her hair with the other.

The inhabitants of Skyhold did not know how blessed they were that the Inquisitor was a 'quiet during sex' type.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the point of Gwen meeting Cullen in Anders' clinic I realised this was not going where it was supposed to be going. And when Gwen stormed Cullen's study it went so south, I could not see the original plan anymore. 
> 
> Chapter had been squeezed out and posted against better judgement. 
> 
> Oh well XD


	7. Promise Me To Keep Your Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise to my readers who got a notification yesterday about the new chapter and logged in to see nothing. 
> 
> I _did_ post it but was very unhappy with my writing and took it down shortly afterwards. SilentSlayer helped me to figure out where I went wrong and with her tremendous help I now present you the final result. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it ^^

Commander Cullen barged into Anders’ clinic at the crack of dawn. The mage pretty much fell out of bed, drowsy and confused and was slightly taken aback by the wild look in the other man’s eyes.

“Maker, it's you! I mean, ah, Commander, is something the matter?” By now Cullen was a regular patient of his. 

The spirit magic Anders was so proficient in had been very effective in soothing the Commander's inflamed joints. It had been a common knowledge that the healing potions could result in a completely separate addiction if taken in large quantities, so Cullen had finally given in, despite his extra caution around magic.

“I’m fine," He answered curtly, running fingers through his hair."I fear for Gw - the Inquisitor. That...that _man_ is dangerous. I need you to go with them and keep her safe.” 

Maker's balls, he was going to have this conversation again. He didn’t want to be anywhere near that mage-hating templar, yet no one seemed to understand that.

“As I already explained to the Inquisitor..”

Cullen cut him off mid - sentence.

“I would like to remind you that you are _still_ the most hated man in Thedas." His words were eerily calm and the Commander's eyes held a hard glint. "I wouldn’t even need to give the order and people would gladly throw you over the battlements.”

Blood rushed away from Anders' face as he took a step back. It was terrifying how much Commander Cullen resembled the Knight - Commander at this very moment.

“I-I’m sorry,” Cullen did not fail to notice mage's fear and a grimace of desperation crossed the Commander's features. “I don’t mean to sound so harsh. I am _not_ him. Not anymore.”

Ander’s nodded and sighed deeply. It seemed he would be going along for the ride regardless of what he thought on the matter.

“Will you be alright while I'm away?” Anders was a healer first and foremost and he cared deeply for his charges. Even if these charges were threatening to throw him off the high places head first.

"I...I will manage." The man in front of him rubbed his forehead slowly. Cullen would be chugging elfroot potions daily by the end of the week, and they both knew it.

Anders wondered if the Inquisitor was enlightened on the full extent of her Commander's health issues. The man hated to be seen as weak, and the mage supposed that the Inquisitor had been purposefully kept in the dark on the matter.

"The Tevinter, he'll be there too. He'll fend off the Knight-Commander, trust me." The Commander added those last words as he patted Anders on the shoulder and left, leaving the mage packing and cursing under his breath.

***

That Tevinter, Dorian Pavus, was now riding alongside Anders and throwing curious stares in his direction.

_...One more glare and I will need a shower..._

Anders looked up to the heavens and sighed, finally turning to his companion.

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Ah, you actually talk! Marvelous," The mage next to him exclaimed, grey eyes glimmering slyly. He smiled charmingly and straightened his back. "Do you know you are _very_ famous in Tevinter? A southern mage that stood up against oppression of the Chantry! I believe someone petitioned to erect a statue somewhere in your honour."

Anders slumped in his seat somewhat, a foul taste in his mouth.

"I... I did nothing like that. What I -," He stuttered, biting his tongue. " What _he_ did is truly horrible."

"Is that so?"

Anders lifted his head and stared at Dorian. He could not discern if the mage was toying with him, and if he was, what pleasure did it bring to torture another human being like that?

" _Yes_. See that angry bucket over there?" Anders nodded in the direction of the Knight-Commander, who had been riding at the Inquisitor's side. "The things he does to mages, the way he abuses power given to him in the name of the greater good, it made me angry, plenty of times. But if I were to resort to the methods of _your_ Anders, what good would it bring? Men and women like him would hunt mages like animals, and all of it because one magic-wielding _idiot_ thought he could speak for everyone."

Dorian hummed thoughtfully to himself and finally flashed a smile back at Anders.

"I have to apologise," He said and there had been indeed a trace of guilt in his voice. "It is truly fascinating to even think about time travel and alternating realities. And here I have a perfect chance to talk to _the_ Anders."

"And? Should I sign something so you can kiss it and put it under a pillow every night?"

"How kind of you," Dorian kept grinning. It seemed sarcasm washed over him like water over a goose. "But unlike my fellow countrymen I was never fond of southern radical extremists. You though, _you_ I like."

Anders smiled meekly at the Tevinter and went back to staring at the Knight-Commander's back. Perhaps, if he glared long and hard enough, the horrible man would burst into flames.

***

The events of the final morning in Skyhold kept running through Gwendolynn's head over and over again as she rode. Her thoughts drifted away to that last time she had talked to Cullen.

***

She woke up to find his side of the bed empty. A sigh escaped her as she stared up at the stars through the hole in his roof. She couldn’t sleep so she patiently awaited his return, dozing off ever so slightly in the warm comfort of the sheets.

Cullen came back some time later. His hair was a mess of golden curls, as if he had run his hands through it many times. That meant he felt uncomfortable and riled up. Gwen sat up on the bed, watching him quietly. She feared what he had to say.

As soon as he saw the Inquisitor was awake, he approached her, rubbing his wrists slowly and dropping a stream of apologies on her head.

“Inq - Gwen. I didn’t....I _shouldn’t_ have lost my temper. You deserve better, and I hope you can forgive my undignified behavior.” He paced the room anxiously as he waited for her reply.

Gwen wrapped herself in the sheets and got out of bed. She approached Cullen, who now stood in the middle of the room not really knowing where to go or what to do. She had rarely, if ever, seen him in such distress. Gwen nuzzled his neck but he pulled away, putting his palm on her cheek instead, stroking it softly with his thumb.

"Promise me you will keep your distance from him."

Gwen's heart dropped. Cullen was obsessed with the idea that the Knight-Commander would do her harm. She had asked him several times why would he think that, but he would never answer her directly.

"Cullen," She exhaled slowly, soaking in the warmth of his palm and basking in the tenderness such strong hands were capable of. "You know I can't. He will train me. Fight beside me. I-"

His gaze had darkened, lips nothing but a thin line. She could hear a hurt in his voice as he spoke.

"Gwen, why do you torture me so? Do you _truly_ not see _what_ he is? Yesterday, what I did. That alone - ," Cullen groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. Gwen felt his palm sliding off her face and she caught it.

_...Maker, his wrist!..._

"Cullen, how long has _this_ been going on?" She asked sternly, carefully rubbing the swollen joint. It all made sense now - the avoidance of the training grounds, the constant wrist rubbing that could have been easily mistaken for a neurotic habit. "Why hide it? From me, of all people?"

The Commander sucked the air through the clenched teeth and hissed softly. Her touch has been both painful and relieving at the same time.

"I will be alright. Just promise me, Gwen. Promise you will do as I ask."

***

"Inquisitor! _Gwendolynn!_ " Dorian's voice brought her out of her stupor and she turned around. The mage waved his hand and urged his gelding closer. "Would it be preposterous of me to think we should set a camp?"

Gwen looked around, noticing how the shadows had gotten much longer since she last paid any attention. The sun hid behind the trees, coloring the sky in many beautiful shades of red.

"It is preposterous for you to even be here, _mage._ " Cullen's voice came from her right, making Gwen frown and glance angrily to her side.

"Cullen," She started, quickly realizing her mistake but not failing to notice a peculiar look in his eyes. "Ser Rutherford, you will _not_ talk to Dorian or Anders in such manner."

"Charming fellow," Commented Dorian dryly. " _Very_ easy on the eyes, though."

An irritated growl was the answer and somewhere behind them Gwendolynn heard Anders' snort. This trip promised to be anything but boring.

The party had arrived at a clearing that would make a good place for a camp. The Inquisitor dismounted and let her mare graze to its heart’s content. Gwen's body was sore from the long ride, and she stretched to ease off the cramping in her muscles. A heated debate between Anders and Dorian attracted her attention, making Gwen come closer.

"I don't _do_ tents, I had people for that!" Dorian crossed his arms, glaring slightly upwards at the lanky, pointy-faced mage.

"You Vints can't even shit without someone wiping your ass and petting your cheek." Anders sighed and rolled his sleeves up.

"Oh, I have figured _you_ out." Dorian grinned smugly, clapping Anders on the shoulder. "You can take the Anders out of Anderfels, but not vice versa."

"Andraste's sweet knickers, if you leave me alone I will set up your tent!" Exclaimed the mage, waving Dorian away. The Tevinter shot a charming smile in his direction, and then headed towards the tree line, stopping near the Inquisitor for a moment.

"I'll go gather firewood, I'm quite good at _that_. Just make sure your overzealous templar does not follow me," He nodded in the direction of the Knight-Commander, who had been setting his own tent. His eyes had been constantly plastered on the mages as they argued. "I afraid he will jump me and not in the way I would greatly appreciate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Anders seem to be hitting it off. One way or another.
> 
> Ser Rutherford is still THE BIGGEST DICK IN THE UNIVERSE.
> 
> Cullen... Cullen is just permanently in torturous pain and angst mode.


	8. 'Cullen'

Gwendolynn sat by the fire, staring into the flames as her thoughts had drifted to Cullen yet again. She remembered a pained expression on his face when her fingers massaged his wrists lightly. It stung that he hid this from her. It made Gwendolynn wonder if, perhaps, the Knight - Commander was to blame. 

Cullen was all about control, that much had always been obvious. Even more so after she met his counterpart. But while the Knight - Commander strived to control the people and events around him, _her_ Cullen was trying to apply it to himself. When they were intimate it did not escape her notice how much he held back. Always asking permission. Always being considerate. Soft touches, gentle words... Eyes dark with lust and still a knight in shining armor. They never talked about why having control of himself had been so important to Cullen. Gwen assumed she would either find it out on her own or he will talk to her. And now... Now Cullen started to slip. The presence of the Knight - Commander had been weighting heavily on him. The way the templar held himself and interacted with the world brought Cullen great deal of discomfort. On top of everything, his lyrium withdrawal was getting worse. Gwen could only guess that he felt himself inadequate - sickly warrior failing to hold a sword versus a full - fledged templar bearing his face, healthy and pumped to the brim with lyrium. Was Cullen scared she would fall in the Knight - Commander's arms just because he flexed a muscle and dropped a Holy Smite? Gwen shook her head and prodded the embers in the fire. She would never understand men.

"Inquisitor," a voice from behind made Gwendolynn jerk her head upwards, hand reaching for the sword. She stared at the Knight - Commander, who, judging by the state of his hair had just woken up. He took the armor off for the night, leaving the leathers on and was rubbing his cheeks with both palms in a feeble attempt to wake up faster. Cullen's habit as well.

"Ser Rutherford," she smiled at him. "You startled me. Is there something you needed?"

"A tired soldier is a dead soldier," he answered, suppressing a yawn and thus diffusing the gravity of his own statement. "It would be wise for you to get some sleep. I'll take over."

"How kind of you to offer but I am not tired."

"I am not kind," he said simply, dropping himself near Gwen. Fire reflected in his harsh amber eyes, setting them aflame. "I am efficient."

That he was. Gwendolynn still remembered the argument in the War Room. _Painfully_ efficient, to say the least. They sat in complete silence for a while with him staring into the flames and her studying his profile. When the Knight - Commander just sat there quietly, distant expression in his eyes, it was as if _her_ Cullen was here. Maker, she missed him. Guilt washed over her, remembering hurt and hope mixed together in his voice.

_... Promise me to do as I ask..._

She never did, did she?

"Cullen," he suddenly spoke to her, making Gwen shiver and turn her face to meet his, arching eyebrows in an unspoken question. The Knight - Commander frowned, slight irritation in his voice. "It is _my_ name as well. I understand the necessity of _ignoring_ it within the walls of Skyhold. But not even my templars _ever_ called me 'Ser Rutherford'. I would be grateful if you called me by my _given_ name, _Gwendolynn_."

The way he spoke her name made Gwendolynn's stomach flutter. Cullen said it the same way, usually when cornering the Inquisitor somewhere dark and secluded and stealing a kiss. Or a grope, depending on how much time they were able to snatch. The Knight - Commander stood up slowly, small grin cracking his lips. His eyes, however, stayed the same. Calculating, cold and... there was something else in them. Something that reminded Gwen about the aftermath of the argument she and Cullen had before her departure. She pursed her lips together and averted her gaze, hoping the fire would mask a treacherous blush that crept up her cheeks.

"Tell me, Inquisitor, does that wreck of a man ever makes you happy? Or all he does is cry in your shoulder like a maiden?" the templar sneered, gaze sliding brashly over her frame and lingering on her breasts. "Or do strong women revel in being worshipped by the weak and the crippled?"

The sudden aggression and gloat in his voice threw her off. Cullen would never.. But that man was not her Commander, a good and timely reminder. 

"Don't talk about him. How dare you!" Gwen hissed and jumped up, staring at the man furiously. "You don't know what he -"

"Went through? You wound me, Inquisitor," the grin disappeared from his face, turning handsome features harsh. "The gruelling Kinloch Hold - a sob story for the ages, for some. For _others_ \- a lesson learned and applied."

He came closer to her and his movements were hypnotizing, like a predator circling its prey. In the better days, back at Haven, she saw Cullen move like that during their sparring - light and graceful, even in full armor. But he never treated Gwen like _this_. Like a trophy to earn and to possess.

"You are a smart, strong woman. It bewilders me greatly to see you wasting your time with that pitiful excuse of a man. You could have _so_ much more. Just let me _show_ you."

The last words were whispered in her ear, his soft lips grazing her earlobe and messy golden curls tickling her cheek. The Knight - Commander's body was pressed tightly to hers and Gwendolynn could feel the bulge of his erection pressing against her hip. Gwen could not understand why she did not move away, why she failed to do anything, allowing the man get so close.

_... How did he get so close?..._

But the shape, the purring voice, the amber eyes to drown in... _Maker, she missed him so much._

"Cullen..." she breathed out, mind muddled with desire to be with him.

A soft chuckle and his fingers in her hair.

"Inquisitor!" a shriek disturbed the stillness of the night. "Step away from him!"

She turned her head towards the sound to see Anders standing outside of his tent, fire throwing hard shades across his angular face. 'Cullen' growled and the illusion had disappeared, the Knight - Commander's face distorted with rage he did not bother to hide.

" _You._ " he hissed and started walking around Gwendolynn, heading for the mage."Always meddling!"

"Stand down." she ordered and saw the templar's body stiffening, muscles bulging underneath the leathers. 

This situation was becoming more and more volatile and Gwen's fingers curled around the pommel of her sword.

"As you wish, Inquisitor." the Knight - Commander's voice had become calm again, as he slowly straightened his back. "By your leave."

As Gwendolynn nodded curtly, the templar had disappeared back in his tent. Nearby Anders had finally relaxed and started trembling like a leaf. He looked absolutely terrified and Gwen sat him down, offering a bit of water from her flask that he gladly took. It seemed that at least three people out of four would not be sleeping tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, this had happened. If anyone doubted - Ser Rutherford is a creep, on top of everything.
> 
> Go Anders, for cockblocking the creeper (even if you almost shat your smallclothes in the process. I know I would.)


	9. The Punishment

He hated the Emerald Graves. The magic had seeped into every crack in the ground, its presence suffocating. The Inquisitor, being very new to the effects of the lyrium, did not seem to be bothered by it. As to the two mages, they were shamelessly basking in the foul energy of the place, drawing on it like a pair of leeches. The Inquisitor led their party to the forward camp in the area in order to re-supply and get the information off the Spymaster's scouts that had mapped the general area prior to this visit. 

He watched the Inquisitor as she talked to a small dwarven woman, both of them examining a report about a dragon sighting. Maker, the blighted place even had a dragon. _Delightful._ The Knight - Commander returned to cleaning his sword, eyes firmly glued to the Inquisitor's back. He could not understand why she attracted him so. From the moment he witnessed the woman talking to the mage in the dungeons, her demeanor calm and powerful, he could not get her out of his mind. She shared the lyrium when he needed it dearly, she had been the _only_ one in the whole Skyhold to ever talk to him daily. The way she smiled, the way she moved... He remembered holding her in his arms - tall and lean, soft skin that smelled vaguely of lavender. Her eyes, her lips moaning _his_ name... 

_... Cullen..._

The Knight - Commander's fist clenched around the pommel of the sword he had been polishing and he thanked the Maker he was sitting - the amount of free space in his breeches was rapidly decreasing. He wanted her. She _had_ to be his. But she was not. Her heart belonged to that _weakling_ with whom the Knight - Commander had a misfortune of sharing both the face and the name. His lip lifted in a sneer, anger boiling inside. A thought that she found the _other_ one to be better then him was simply infuriating. He worked so hard to end up as he did - methodically teaching himself not to stutter like a fool, to be decisive, to take the actions needed and face the consequences. So that Kinloch Hold would _never_ happen again. So that he would be ready for anything that life throws his way. Coming face to face with the Commander of the Inquisition had been quite invigorating as he realised he had made the right choices. Not comforting, though, for the Commander had a hold on something _he_ needed.

"And how are you this fine day, Ser Rutherford?" a voice chimed somewhere to the left, making the Knight - Commander distract himself from the Inquisitor and turn in the direction of the sound. That nosy Tevinter stood there, bright smile on his face. That mage _always_ smiled and it had been really irritating to watch.

"Magister," he acknowledged, returning to his sword and not answering the question.

"And there I thought southern templars were a tad bit more educated," the mage sighed and made a dramatic gesture. "I am an Altus. A-L-T-U-S. Perhaps I should carry a note on my chest saying that."

"You wanted something?" the templar barked, noisy Tevinter started giving him a serious headache. "If not, then shut up and get out."

"Charming," commented the mage and moved closer. His magical energy pressed on the Knight - Commander's mind, making him inhale and wince. "I see what you are doing."

"Do you now? A smart thing you are then, for a _mage._ " the templar snickered, putting his sword aside and crossing arms on his chest.

"I am not one of your scared and abused charges, _templar,_ " Dorian jerked his chin upwards, eyes darkening in anger. "Do something to Inquisitor and I will know. And you _will_ answer for it."

The Knight - Commander stood up and was now towering over Dorian, the stench of lyrium so strong it made the Tevinter want to step back but he did not.

"Inquisitor is a big girl, she can decide herself," he gave the mage a grin full of teeth. "And if your beloved Commander learns of this somehow - all the better. Perhaps he'll grow a pair."

Mage's intentions were easy to read and as the man lifted his hand, the templar grabbed the man's wrist and bringing their faces closer together.

"Try hit me with a spell, Tevinter, and you will wind up without your precious mana for the rest of the trip." he growled, clenching fingers around mage's wrist, pulling on his magic just a bit to let the Tevinter know he meant it. A slight trace of shock slid across mage's face as he felt the mana drain. He probably had never felt anything like that before - the templars in Imperium were notoriously useless.

"Knight - Commander Rutherford," the Inquisitor's voice disrupted his focus and he let the mage go. "What, in the Void, are you doing?!"

"Chatting, Inquisitor." he replied simply, anger washing away from his features. The templar grinned and ran a hand through his hair, noticing that made the Inquisitor avert her gaze for a second.

_... Ah, another habit me and him have in common, then..._

"Dorian?" she turned to the mage, who looked slightly pale but otherwise unharmed. The Tevinter shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes never left the templar's face, a clear warning in them.

"Pleasantry exchange got a bit _exciting_ , shall we say."he answered and nodded. "Now, if you excuse me, I have Anders to find. I have the herbs he needed."

With that the mage turned around and walked away, leaving the Inquisitor and the Knight - Commander alone. 

The woman frowned and clasped the hands behind her back.

"He let you off the hook. But I won't. This is not _your_ Kirkwall and you are playing by _our_ rules, Knight - Commander." her voice dropped to a whisper as she came close to him. "You will be denied the next two doses of lyrium as a punishment for this atrocious behaviour."

"Your bias is uncalled for," he commented dryly, curling his fists in frustration. "Your mage was _threatening_ me. I do not take kindly to that."

She stopped in her tracks, clearly thinking about what he said. 

"I will ask Dorian if this is true. Your punishment, however, still stands."

"As you wish, Inquisitor." he replied with a sigh and returned back to his sword, watching that damn irresistible woman walk away in the direction of the tents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Knight - Commander being still hot and still unlikeable. But then also likeable because I have a weird fascination with douches. I want to kick him in the nuts and then make out with him.
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudo's and comments. I am happy people are interested in this and I am always curious what you, guys think.
> 
> Still having lots of headcanons how templars and their skills work.
> 
> Cheers!


	10. The Champions Of The Just

They left their horses behind and proceeded on foot. Dorian was walking ahead, the Inquisitor and the Knight - Commander were forming the middle of the procession and Anders was covering the rear. Gwen had one eye on the templar who was walking to the right, too proud to admit that the short lyrium deprivation had started to kick in. His brow was drenched in sweat and the blond curls, puffed up due to humidity, were sticking to the forehead. The templar had been clenching his fingers around the pommel of the sword and looking at the ground. Two days off lyrium would not do any lasting damage to a templar, apart from causing some discomfort. If anything, it would make him angrier and sharper. The Inquisitor grinned to herself as she stole yet another peek of the focused and determined warrior next to her - she had been quite curious to see him in action against the Venatori. If some of the templars back at Skyhold were to be believed, a certain Knight - Captain had been a sight to behold in battle. Even without his templar abilities Cullen had still been a formidable opponent that packed quite a punch. Untill... The memory of his swollen disfigured hand and a pain in his eyes as she massaged the joints made Gwen hang her head, eyes burning. She should be back in Skyhold, supporting Cullen in his time of need. Not _this._

Lost in thoughts the Inquisitor did not notice Dorian stopping until she bumped into his back.

"Venatori, ahead," he whispered and shot a stare in the direction of the Knight - Commander. "But not alone."

The tone of Dorian's voice was ominous enough to make Gwen join him and take a peek. A curse left her lips and her nostrils flared in irritation. For what it was worth - they had found the camp. But the Venatori were the least of their problems. Amongst the Tevinter mages walked several Red Templars. One of them - a hulking mass of red lyrium - was undoubtedly a Behemoth. The templars, corrupted by Corypheus, were in much lesser numbers after the bulk of the Order had joined the Inquisition but they were sighted occasionally. And just like now, they were mostly accompanying the Venatori mages as bodyguards.

"Red Templars," she hissed. "Maker, if there are Shadows amongst them this will turn very ugly."

"Red _what_?" Knight - Commander whispered angrily as he pushed himself past Anders to see better. As his gaze fell upon enemy he stiffened and exhaled sharply, his pale face turning as white as the first snow. "Maker's breath, these men are... _templars_?"

"Corrupted templars," remarked Dorian quietly, earning a furious stare from the Knight - Commander.

"Templars would _never_ be corrupted!" the man hissed in agitation, fists clenching rhythmically as his voice trembled slightly. "Blessed are the peacekeepers, _the champions of the just._ We do not... _Are not -_ "

"Right..." Anders chimed in, crossing arms on his chest. "Innocent as babes, your lot."

The Knight - Commander made an attempt to grab the mage by the scruff but instead his fingers brushed over Gwendolynn's breastplate, who jumped in between the arguing party.

"Both of you, _enough_! We work together. Stuff you issues where I cannot see them, right now is not the time for your nonsense." she saw Anders opening his mouth defiantly and shot him a warning glare. "That's an _order._ " when nobody had attempted to speak up, the Inquisitor nodded in the direction of the enemy. "We all know what to do."

She left their cover and charged towards the mages, dropping a Holy Smite on the nearest one. A twang from the right forced Gwen to raise her shield as several arrows bounced off the metal. 

Dorian's magic thrummed through the air and a Venatori was frozen solid, his face contorted into a silent scream. The Knight - Commander was there, ready to shatter the trap. His sword drove through the man's throat, and ice rained down upon the battlefield.

"Inquisitor!" Anders' voice reached Gwen's ears, bringing her back from her momentary distraction. The tingle of magic spread across her skin as the mage erected a barrier in front of her. One of the enemy mages had hurled a barrage of fireballs in her direction, and only Anders' quick thinking saved her. 

A silhouette slid into her vision and Gwen swiftly turned around to block an incoming attack from one of the templars, severing his arm before knocking him away and plunging a sword through his chest. She looked up and horror griped her as a Behemoth monstrosity prepared to charge, Anders standing in its path. The mage had been too busy casting defensive barriers to notice and Gwendolynn was too far away to do anything. Luckily, the Knight - Commander wasn't. 

As he saw the creature speed up, he yelled to Anders, but the words were lost in the clash of battle. In the nick of time, he rammed into the mage pushing him out of harm's way, but was left defenseless as the hulking beast slammed into him. The jarring sound of metal grinding against lyrium rang out, and the force of the impact knocked the Knight - Commander to the ground. Anders scrambled to his feet running to the fallen man, while Gwen and Dorian took care of the Behemoth.The thing died slowly and painfully but just in time, for Dorian's brow was drenched in sweat and he was panting heavily, his mana and energy nearly exhausted.

Gwendolynn dropped her sword and rushed towards Anders, who was kneeling near the Knight - Commander and checking his pulse. The man laid on the ground, his head turned sideways as the blood from a nasty gash to the left side of his face dribbled slowly down his lips and onto the ground. The left pauldron had been mashed into something completely unrecognisable and it had been clear that this is where the monster and the templar had rammed into each other.

"Well, lo and behold, our Knight - Commander is still alive," Anders muttered as he took out a small gauze and wiped away the blood from the man's face to see better. "For the love of the Maker, someone hold him down while I heal. He might wake up and, you know..."

Gwen pinned the Knight - Commander's shoulders to the ground as she watched Anders close his eyes and flare up the healing magic. Its calming energy tickled her senses, making the Inquisitor relax, watching how Anders hovered his palms over the templar, scanning for injuries and healing the hurts. When the mage lifted his hands from the wound on the Knight - Commander's face Gwendolynn gasped softly - the cut, now partially healed, was the mirror image of the scar _her_ Cullen had, right down to the curve and the angle. To the left Dorian hummed thoughtfully, making Gwen turn towards him, eyebrows arched in an unspoken question. He caught the Inquisitor's stare and rubbed his chin.

"Peculiar... It is as if time and space tries to even itself out, somehow." he muttered, staring at the templar. Gwen wanted to ask what he meant by that but a soft groan distracted her and, as she looked down, she saw the Knight - Commander turn his head, his eyes fluttering open.

"Gwend - Inquier- Inqusitor," he slurred, smiling sheepishly eyes full of adoration. Gwen blushed and turned away. At this very moment the man looked and sounded so much like Cullen she was very close to lean in and plant a kiss on those beautiful lips.

"Mild concussion," commented Anders, light radiating from his fingers as he scanned the templar's head. "Nothing permanent. _Sadly._ " the last words had been uttered very quietly but Dorian, who apparently had equisite hearing, barked out a laugh.

The Knight - Commander lifted himself up and stared at Anders, recognition slowly creeping into his mind. Gwen felt his muscles tense and she slid one arm over his chest for better hold, digging heels into the ground.

"You _imbecile_!" he snarled, straining against the Inquisitor's hold. "Maker's breath, what kind of support mage are you?! You _cannot_ be babysitted on the battlefield, you -" as he lifted his lip in a beloved expression of disdain, the tender scar - tissue parted slightly, making him yelp and touch his mouth.

"And you are very welcome," Anders cleaned his hands and stood up, small grin playing on his lips. "I just saved your life, you know."

"I saved _yours_ , you idiot!" the Knight - Commander barked, eyes flashing in anger.

"So you did," Anders admitted, his grin getting wider by the second. " _You_ , the highly infamous Knight - Commander of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi, saved a life of a _mage_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to SS for helping me with the fighting scene. I am really bad with action sequences.
> 
> And what is this? A bird? A plane? A llama pooping? No, it's the Knight - Commander doing something for other people.
> 
> 'There is still light in him'
> 
> He just has to reach deep into his ass to find it.


	11. Of Monsters And Men

This had to be done just right. If he were to mess this up, Knight - Commander would be furious. Anders sighed and looked through the recipe again, mumbling to himself, as he read the list of the ingredients. If it were up to him, the templar would have to heal slowly and painfully and, Anders had to admit, the vindictive side of him wished dearly to see the man squirm. The rational part, however, wanted to keep his kneecaps intact. The rumours he had heard about the Knight - Commander's _discipline_ methods were chilling, to say the least. 

Anders rubbed his eyes, the letters on the scroll blurring and dancing around. He badly needed some sleep but he could not bring himself to rest even for a little while. The dreams unsettled him so much, Anders started to drink potions to keep himself continuously awake. The nightmares - he could not call those visions anything else - showed him the life of the other man that bore his face. Most of the time Anders saw himself with a woman - the Champion - whom he loved and whom he used to get his way. A bright pillar of light rising up to the heavens where the Kirkwall Chantry once stood. The raining debris and the ash feeling hot on his skin. These memories were not his and yet it felt as if they _were_. Anders massaged his temples slowly and proceeded to search through his belongings, finally taking out a small vial filled with the liquid as clear as a tear. The flap of his tent lifted and someone came in, carrying the faint smell of cinnamon with them. 

"I see I am right on time," Dorian eyed the man in front of him, arms crossed on the chest. "You should really quit drinking that."

"I can't..." Anders muttered, popping the cork out and downing the slightly bitter potion. "I cannot - _must_ not sleep."

Dorian watched how the colour returned to the mage's face in a matter of seconds, making him look as fresh as if the man had a full night of sleep. He took notice of Anders abusing the potion a while ago, but only after the last fight Dorian could clearly see the mage was on it for far too long.

"Well then, that explains the mishap with the Behemoth."

"As much as I want to gloat about the fact the Knight - Commander saved _me_ , of all people, his words were true," Anders shook his head bitterly as he took a handful of elfroot and started crumbling the leaves into the pot. "I lost focus."

"How long have you been taking it?"

"Pretty much since we left Skyhold" had been a quiet reply.

Dorian grabbed the man's arm, pulling the mage away from his workbench and turning him around so they were standing face to face. Somewhere in the back of his mind Dorian noted that Anders was at least half a head taller then him. Oh he _liked_ tall men. The absent expression in the mage's eyes, however, was a reason for concern. Dorian snapped his fingers in front of the man's face to attract his attention.

"Anders, you have to stop. Did they teach you nothing in that Ferelden tower of yours?"

"I was too busy escaping." Anders smirked and Dorian had to resist the urge to just grab the man by the front of his robe and kiss him. All those naughty novels about the defiant barbarians of Anderfels he had read in his gentle years were coming back to him.

"You see what it is doing to you, right? If anything, as a support mage, you are endangering the well - being of your charges. And I _really_ care about my well - being."

"If I sleep I see _him_." Anders grimaced and curled his fists. "It's because of Justice. It is not his fault but - "

"The spirit links you stronger to the Fade." Dorian finished the mage's sentence. 

It was fascinating to talk to an 'abomination' - if he were to use templar terminology - that did more then screeching and trying to kill people. The Chantry made no distinction between spirit and demonic possessions but they were, at the core, two completely different things. The spirit possessions were rare and majority of them failed due to the fragile nature of the mental balance the host was able to provide. The result of such failed possession would be an abomination - a spirit whose nature had been perverted and who had overpowered its host to do their bidding. Anders of _his_ world - on all accounts - had been such a case, if Dorian were to trust Varric. And Varric had always been uncommonly straightforward and honest about the Kirkwall Uprising. The deeds and the fate of his friend were still haunting the dwarf.

"How about..." Dorian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We share a tent? I know some calming magic that might help you sleep through the night."

"I - We _what_?" Anders stuttered in surprise.

"As if you had never shared a tent with, say, Wardens?"

"I did," the mage scoffed, putting hands on his hips. "They kicked me out. Because, apparently, I talk in my sleep. _In voices._ "

"Is that so?" Dorian smiled brightly. "Does Justice tell juicy secrets?"

"Maker, no. He's a prude," Anders laughed and Dorian was pleased to see the mage smile as his hazel eyes lit up in amusement. The man tilted his head sideways as if he listened to something in the distance. "He says I offend him with such preposterous name - calling."

"A prude then," concluded Dorian cheerfully and patted the mage's shoulder before heading out. "After this last dose wears off we should try my idea. And don't worry, I won't get _handsy._ "

***

Gwendolynn grabbed a towel and headed in the direction the scout pointed her to. The towel had the Inquisition's insignia on it - no doubt Josephine's work - woven in golden patterns along both edges. An unnecessary luxury but, according to the Ambassador, presentation mattered. She grinned, remembering Cullen clutching the towel in his fist as he shook it in Josephine's face and told her that the only way this frivolity could be justified, was if the troops would walk around with the towels as their banners. Gwendolynn was inclined to agree with the Commander but Josephine was not budging. As she made her way towards the hot spring, she took note of clothes that were sprawled on the ground. She picked up a vambrace with a flaming sword engraved on it.

"Inquisitor!" a surprised call came from further up ahead and she turned around to see the Knight - Commander hastily wrapping the towel around his midsection. Gwen had caught herself staring and had quickly averted her gaze.

"Ah, I wasn't expecting anyone here." she put the piece of the armor back hastily.

"The mage said the warmth will heal me faster." the Knight - Commander pointed at his left shoulder that had been one big and painful - looking bruise.

"Which mage? We have two of them." the Inquisitor asked slyly as she watched Cullen - no, the Knight - Commander - purse his lips together in annoyance.

"Anders," the man had finally said as he watched the Inquisitor roll up her breeches and sit at the edge of the geothermal pool, dipping her feet into the steaming waters. "Are you not going in?"

"I - No. Not yet."

"Suit yourself, because I am." she saw the towel drop on the floor and then the Knight - Commander took a short run and dove head - first into the pool. _Men._

He broke the surface with a huff, throwing wet hair backwards and evening it out with the tips of his fingers. She watched his every move, how the droplets of water slid down his nose and along the neck. The content expression in those amber eyes. Gwendolynn bit her lip, feeling heat seeping slowly into her lower abdomen. 

"Ser Rutherford, ah, Cullen," she called him hoarsely and then cleaned her throat. "What did Anders mean by 'notoriously infamous' ?"

"Exactly what you think," the Knight - Commander stated as he swam towards the edge and lifted himself slightly to be able to put the elbows on the ground, scowling at the protesting shoulder. "I am more then just unpopular with the mages."

"Is that - "

"Based on anything? You could say that," the templar let his cheek rest on his shoulder and kept eying the Inquisitor. "After Kinloch Hold -, " he paused and Gwendolynn noticed pain in his features. The same kind Cullen had every time the memories brought him back to that place. "It had been unanimously agreed that invoking the Rite of Annulment has been the best solution and as the Knight - Commander Greagoir's post had become vacant, I had been put in charge."

Gwendolynn frowned while biting her nail thoughtfully. This sounded quite different from Cullen's story.

"And Surana went along with it? A _mage_ has agreed to help you destroy her home?"

"Surana..." the Knight - Commander's features had softened and there was sadness in his eyes, that had been quickly replaced with anger. "Those _animals_ , the people she called friends, they killed her. In front of me. They were aware of my infatuation with her and it had been a great pleasure to see me scream as they drained her blood for a ritual." 

"Maker..." Gwendolynn gasped in shock. "Who freed you then?"

"Freed me?" he asked, slightly confused. "Ah yes, the Commander told you, it seems," the templar paused and slowly exhaled. It looked like talking about this had been as difficult for him as it had been for Cullen but unlike the Commander, the man in front of her could handle his sorrows better. "Warden Cousland came to my aid. He saw the need to act upon my proposition. It was not the same for _your_ Commander, I take it?"

"Surana was that Warden. You can imagine why she had refused."

"Oh." was the only thing the templar had produced and they both fell silent for a while. It had been clear to her now where both men had parted their ways. A different Hero of Ferelden came to the tower, each with their own values and view of the world. And where Cullen had been denied, the Knight - Commander got his way, unfolding the completely different chain of events. Her heart ached for this man. Gwen wanted to comfort him, to let him know she was here for support.

"And then?"

"I had restored the Tower but I could not stay. The memory of the dead seeped in every Maker forsaken stone in that damnable place. So I filed for a transfer," the templar pushed away from the edge and quickly went underwater, surfacing a moment later and settling back, a couple of inches closer to the Inquisitor this time. "Someone upstairs thought I would make a good replacement for the Knight - Commander in Kirkwall, his death untimely and highly suspicious. The Seekers were sure that blood magic was involved."

"Was it?" Gwen asked thoughtfully as her fingers swept a wet strand of hair away from that alabaster forehead.

"Kirkwall Circle had always been a mess. As your elf would say, 'the Veil is thin there'. Some say the Seven had breached the heavens from Kirkwall and it had left its mark upon the city. Mages going mad, possessions..." the Knight - Commander's lips were a harsh thin line. "I did what was necessary. Examples were made of those _proven_ to be guilty. Some executed, most made Tranquil. But people love to waddle their tongues, my own templars first amongst them. And then, one day, I found myself to be a monster that stoops to the lowest of lows, save eating the newborn mages."

He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, nuzzling into Gwen's palm that was cupping his cheek now.

"But these rumours kept mages in line and so I chose to be seen as a beast. It soured me, made me bitter and angry. Perhaps, in a way, I started to live up to their expectations."

"Did you ever hurt an innocent on purpose?" she asked quietly, grey eyes meeting his amber ones.

"No." had been the simple answer and there was was nothing but honesty in his gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be a big ass chapter full of big dialogues and dramatic explanations.  
> And also full of headcanons.
> 
> And suddenly Ser Rutherford is much less of an asshole then we thought him to be. He has FEELINGS. I wanted to explore how one crucial decision completely derails two initially identical lives.
> 
> Ser Rutherford had to take command and make hard decisions while our Curly stayed safely in the comfort of being a subordinate soldier drone, breaking out of his comfort zone only after becoming the Commander.


	12. No One Ever Listens, Not Until It's Far Too Late

Gwendolynn watched the two crows take flight in the direction of Skyhold. One was meant for Leliana and one for Cullen. Both announced their arrival, three days from now, but in a very different styles - curt and to the point for the Spymaster and much more personal for her Commander. The messenger birds were mere dots against the dusky sky when Gwen had finally turned around and left the rookery, shivering when a cold wind blew some snow in her face. The trek through the mountains was not the easy one, even with the good weather being on the traveller's side. The Inquisition, on Leliana's advice, had set a base at the base of the Frostbacks. It served both as a security measure and made sure the people were well rested before setting their course for the fortress. 

The biting cold made Gwendolynn rush inside the small tavern and she settled down in the corner, hands clutching tightly around the tankard of mulled wine, fingers soaking in the warmth. The tavern was almost empty - the soldiers posted at the camp were going about their duties and it had not been the traveling season down in the valley. Gwendolynn curled her hands around the drink just a tad bit tighter, somberly thinking about going back to Skyhold. The location of the Inquisition's headquarters was both a blessing and a curse - tough to reach not only for the enemy but for their own people as well.

"Inquisitor?" a voice nearby made Gwen blink and raise her gaze. Both Dorian and Anders stood in front of her, snow slowly melting on their clothes. Dorian made a disgusted noise and quickly rearranged his damp hair, trying to make it look presentable. 

"Need any help with that?"Anders grinned and a small flame lit up on the tip of his finger.

Dorian took a step back, pressing his hand to the chest in a dramatic fashion.

"Barbarian! Watch and learn." he smirked and Gwen felt a tingle of Dorian's magic on her skin. The Tevinter's hands started to glow slightly and he ran fingers through his hair. The Inquisitor watched, both amazed and amused, at how it dried and took the desired shape in a matter of seconds. 

"A handy trick to have," she nodded, sipping her wine. Dorian arched an eyebrow, pointing at her tankard. "Mulled wine with Antivan spices. Good stuff."

"I can actually smell the quality. Do excuse me." Dorian commented and headed towards the bartender, with a special kind of determination written on his face.

Anders stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do and had finally nodded at the empty bench to the opposite of the Inquisitor.

"May I?"

The smile had been his answer and Anders sat down, moving to the furthest corner in order to make space for Dorian. Gwendolynn realized she did not talk to Anders much, if at all, since the time the Knight - Commander saved his life. On their journey back the mage was keeping close to Dorian and seemed to look awfully tired. It did not escape her notice, however, that Dorian and Anders slept in one tent but, as curious as she had been, prying about the private affairs of her companions was not Gwen's habit.

"How are you feeling, Anders?" she asked carefully, searching for his gaze. Hazel eyes met her grey ones and he smiled softly.

"Thank you for caring, Inquisitor. I am fine... A bit tired," he rubbed his chin slowly as he kept looking at Gwendolynn. " I had been unable to sleep since we left Skyhold and Dorian had offered his advice and knowledge to - "

"Tell her how it is, Anders." Dorian came back, two tankards of mulled wine in his hands and handed the warm drink to the mage, settling down next to him.

"The Inquisitor really does not need to -"

"Our beloved healer here," Dorian did not even blink, as he smiled pleasantly, putting the elbows on the table. "Has a, shall we say, permanent stowaway on board. As you are, no doubt, aware," he added seeing Gwendolynn's face expression. "The spirit links him strongly to the Fade, that connection being stronger than that of any regular mage and - "

"And I see things I do not want to _talk_ about." Anders shot an angry stare back at Dorian and sighed. "Can we, for once, just drink and enjoy ourselves?"

"Better get on it then, for a certain someone had just made their appearance." Dorian nodded at someone behind Gwendolynn, making her turn around. A bit too eagerly, perhaps.

Ser Rutherford was coming down the stairs, dressed in simple dark linens, his damp golden locks combed backwards - from this angle he looked like a complete mirror image of Cullen, making Gwendolynn shift slightly, trying to ignore the pulsating heat rising in her abdomen. The templar gave her a curt smile and, as he noticed the two mages, he froze at the bottom of the stairs, not sure how to proceed. The Knight - Commander's desire to join the Inquisitor was plastered all over his face, mixed, however, with a great deal of suspicion towards her mage companions. Gwen raised her hand and beckoned him, both of the mages exchanging slightly uncomfortable glares as they watched the templar approach.

"Inquisitor. Mages." he bowed his head in a short acknowledgement.

"A shocking revelation but we have names, you know." Dorian scoffed, giving the templar a judgemental look. 

Ser Rutherford took the only available space left near the Inquisitor and grinned as he cracked his knuckles.

"Apologies, mages _with names._ "

"Oh Maker," Dorian rolled his eyes in exaggerated agony and took a swig from his tankard. "Templar with an atrocious sense of humour."

"Well, Dorian," Anders had raised up a finger in the air in a pseudo - scholarly manner."Do not underestimate the power of templar humour. The prolonged exposure to bad jokes and awful puns causes severe damage to the mental stability of a mage."

Gwendolynn saw the Knight - Commander's eyes darken in anger, jowls tightening. She tapped his shoulder, making the man switch his attention to her, irritation leaving his features as quickly as it came.

"How about some ale for the lady?" she asked softly.

"As you wish, Inquisitor."

As soon as he left, Gwen turned back to the two mages and frowned slightly.

"This was spot - on, I'll give you that, but would you _please_ not poke the sleeping bear?" she sighed, placing a knuckle under her chin. "Cullen is doing his best but he still is as volatile as ever."

" _Cullen?_ " Dorian put his drink down and ogled the Inquisitor suspiciously. "Are we on a first name basis with him now?"

"He is volatile alright," Anders stated, glaring at the figure on the other side of the tavern. "You cannot trust him. He is mage - hating, aggressive - "

"Both of you," Gwendolynn's voice fell low, a clear warning in it. "We are a team, he does his best to behave and so should you. The Knight - Commander saved your life, Anders. Show him at least some gratitude for that. And Dorian," she sighed. "Don't be so petty."

***

The rest of the evening was spent in a much better mood. The drinks kept coming and, at some point, Gwendolynn felt buzzed enough to stop before it got too ugly. She was anything but a graceful drunk. Out of the four of them Dorian seemed to be the only one to be able to hold his liquor well, getting quieter and more reserved but staying lucid enough to still have coherent discussions. Anders had been out of it for a while now, occasionally muttering something about the rights of the mages and spending most of the time with his head on his arms.

"Look me straight in the eyes, Pavus and tell me there are no abominations in Tevinter." Ser Rutherford huffed, eyes misty from the consumed alcohol. He bowed forward, planting a fist on the table a tad harder then intended.

"I will say no such thing," Dorian twirled his moustache thoughtfully. "It happens, mages get possessed. Fun fact, my dear templar, so do non - mages. A hardworking farmer, possessed by a creature of the Fade, might not be able to shoot fireballs at you but _can_ go on a murder rampage in the village. Should there be Circles for farmers too? Maybe just make whole of Thedas a one big Circle, hmm?"

"Do not forget Lord Woolsley." Gwendolynn pointed out absentmindedly, admiring Ser Rutherford's profile.

"Yes! Of course, the goat!"

"A sheep, I think." corrected the Inquisitor, tracing the templar's jawline with her eyes.

"Does it matter? A smelly farm animal," Dorian took a swig from his drink. "Possessed by a rage demon but _very_ content with its life. So we let it be."

Ser Rutherford's nostrils flared and he turned to Gwendolynn, who blinked a couple of times, trying to bring the picture into focus.

"Maker's breath! You let an abomination just... just _prance_ around?"

"A goat, Cullen. An abom -," Gwen snorted, trying to keep a straight face. "An abominable _goat_."

"Where is it?" he asked sternly, looking around with a predatory expression. "I will go and _smite_ that animal, right now. Templar's job is never - "

"Enough with the smiting!" Anders had lifted his head. "Mages deserve fr- freedom."

"And what about goats?" asked the Inquisitor, a serious expression on her face.

" _Especially_ the goats."

"Good man!" Dorian grinned and watched Anders drop his head on his arms yet again.

"I think I should, probably, go." Gwendolynn stood up and prodded the Knight - Commander, who just pushed his chair slightly aside to let her pass. This is when Anders had suddenly straightened his back and turned towards the Inquisitor, blue light illuminating his eyes.

"I believe Anders had had enough and would like to retire," the mage rumbled with a Fade - distorted voice. "However, the state of his inebriation makes it difficult for me to walk and I humbly request your assistance, Inquisitor."

Gwen put a firm hand on the Knight - Commander's shoulder who, by now, was following Anders' every move, muscles bulging from the effort to restrain himself from jumping at the mage's throat. Gwendolynn wondered if Justice was even aware in how much danger it was putting its host at this very moment.

"Still yourself, mage - hunter, we have no quarrel and I am not a threat to anyone here."

"Take him away, Inquisitor. _Now._ " the templar's fists were clenched so hard, the knuckles were as white as snow. "I am _this_ close to - "

"Justice, come." Gwen hastily offered the spirit a shoulder to lean on and they went upstairs. As she helped the mage to the bed, the spirit thanked her and disappeared, leaving a steadily breathing yet completely passed out Anders laying sprawled on the bed. Gwendolynn blew out the candles and closed the door behind herself, walking unsteadily to her own quarters and silently cursing for drinking a bit too much. They had to leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow but somehow Gwen had a feeling they might not. She opened the door and found the bed by walking along the wall, to tired and tipsy to search for candles. The Inquisitor dropped on the soft mattress, closing her eyes for just a moment.

***

A soft knock on the door woke her up. It took Gwendolynn a moment to remember where she was but the knocking continued and so she stood up and shuffled towards the irritating sound. As she unlocked the door, Gwen saw a tall figure standing there and swaying a bit.

"Inquisitor..." Ser Rutherford's voice was hoarse and he slurred slightly. "May I come in?"

Gwendolynn was not sure how to answer the question. The man was drunk. She herself still felt hazy and buzzed. What did he want? Why was he here? He sensed her uncertainty and sighed.

"To talk. Just - Just _that_."

"Please, come in." Gwen answered slowly, stepping aside.

The Knight - Commander walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed. Gwen lit a couple of candles and turned back to her late-night guest. The view was disheartening - she had never seen the man so defeated. He was slumping, hand running through his messy curls over and over again. Pale features, dull glare in those beautiful amber eyes... An unmistakable sign of distress. She had seen it many times in Cullen but never in Ser Rutherford.

"When you left, I talked to the mage - Dorian - a bit. About time distortions. About the chances of me ever going back... Turns out odds are not in my favour," he rubbed his forehead with an almost inaudible sob. "My life, as I knew it, is over. For the first time in a very long while I do not know what to do."

The templar had been clenching something in his left fist and, as he uncurled the fingers, two empty lyrium vials fell on the floor. He saw her staring and bowed his head even lower.

"I needed clarity. Focus. It did not work." Ser Rutherford fell silent.

"Cullen," Gwendolynn sat near the man, clasping his trembling hands. "I cannot say anything that would comfort you, I know, but, perhaps... This is a chance to start anew. The Inquisition had been this chance for many... It can help you too."

" _How_?" he asked bitterly.

"To help find something that keeps you going," she answered softly.

They both fell silent, still holding hands. He looked so fragile right now, ready to break. Gwendolynn had never expected the stern Knight - Commander to be this way. But the situation he found himself in was beyond anyone's comprehension. How would she feel if one day everything she knew had been taken away from her?

"What if it has been in front of me all this time?" he said suddenly, lifting her chin up with two fingers.

Gwendolynn leaned in and her lips met his - so soft and familiar, albeit tasting of alcohol and lyrium. A chaste kiss had become much more intense when her tongue slid over his scar, making the templar grunt in pleasure and tilt her head slightly backwards, exposing her neck. A series of soft kisses and gentle nips had lit a fire inside her, making Gwendolynn mindlessly slide onto Ser Rutherford's lap and buck her hips when she felt his erection underneath. Her hand slid down his abdomen and rested on the bulge, kneading the leathers lazily. The man's breath hitched in his throat and he fell backwards on the bed, shaking hands trying to undo the buckles of her vest. When that had failed, his fingers snaked under her leathers, finding one breast and cupping it softly, teasing the nipple through the breast band. Gwendolynn gasped, her hand moving around more erratically. Oh sweet Maker, how dearly she missed this! She longed for his touch, the familiar hands caressing her, those sweet lips planting soft kisses... She missed Cullen.

_... But this isn't him, is it? Then why does it feel so right?..._

"Please... No.. I can't -, " the words dropped from her lips and Gwen pulled away, straightening her back. The man underneath her - flushed and breathing heavily - he was Cullen in every way. And at the same time he was not. "Please, Ser - Cullen, I need to be alone."

She rolled off him, adjusting the vest slowly and hiding her face. Gwendolynn felt the templar stand up.

"Forgive me. I did not - "

"You have nothing to apologise for."

"It is because of _him_ , isn't it?"

Gwen nodded silently, biting her lip. The realisation, that she loved one and have developed similar feelings for another, burned like hot iron rod against her skin. Angry tears were biting her eyes, ready to spill out at any moment.

"Leave, _please._ "

A door creaked open and then closed again, heavy footsteps heading down the hallway. A stifled scream left the Inquisitor's throat as she turned a nightstand over, dropping herself on the floor, burning tears rolling down her cheeks. Gwendolynn felt trapped. She should have listened.

She did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me forever to write and, truth be told, I am still not happy with it. But I do not think I can make it any better than what I've managed to splurge and re-read a million times so do enjoy the horror.
> 
> Gwen is ass deep in men but is it so weird she is falling for a man that is, in a nutshell, a slightly warper version of the Commander? Especially after everything he told her, she can see him in the light others don't.
> 
> Ser Rutherford can behave like a human being. And has feels. But we knew that from before. But poor guy's life just went up in flames.


	13. The Commanders

The ride back to Skyhold had been an awkward one. Gwendolynn stayed ahead but Ser Rutherford did not join her, riding at the back of the procession and, in his own words, keeping a watchful eye on the mages. The Inquisitor could swear she felt his glare between her shoulder blades, the same way she used to feel Cullen's stare across the war table, back at Haven. After the events of the previous night she could hardly look at the man. All she saw was Cullen's face, eyes passing judgement on her reckless behaviour.

_Reckless behaviour? 'Reckless' would be to headbutt a dragon, not to desperately jump someone in the middle of the night._

Someone who looked like the Commander, who talked and walked and acted almost exactly like the one waiting for her at Skyhold. In truth, Gwendolynn was not even sure she did what she did only because she missed Cullen's touch. Ser Rutherford turned out to be much more than he led anyone to believe. His life had been so different and yet, at the same time, so very similar. It seemed that no matter _what_ Cullen Rutherford was or where he ended up, the man had to suffer to get there. The memory of pain in Cullen's eyes flashed within her mind once more, making Gwendolynn sneer in frustration and urge her mount to go faster.

It had been close to nightfall when the hulking fortress had finally appeared before them, a horn sounding the arrival of the Inquisitor. The party clustered together, waiting for the portcullis to be lifted. It had always been extra windy on the bridge and suddenly Gwendolynn found herself too close to Ser Rutherford, the urge to seek warmth within his arms infuriatingly overwhelming. The man bowed his head to hers, his breath tickling her ear as the white puffs of smoke slid in and out of her vision.

"Your Commander is on the other side. Be prepared, Inquisitor."

"For what, exactly?" she whispered, perhaps a bit more aggressively than intended.

"Act normal," the templar answered slowly, weighting his every word. "Do not let him see you worry. Do not _pity._ Maker knows, he hates to get it from others," he paused and Gwendolynn had finally lifted her head to shoot Ser Rutherford a questioning look. "Especially from you, Gwen." 

She wanted to ask what he meant by that but the templar nudged his horse forward, passing under the portcullis and disappearing in the courtyard. Dorian and Anders had followed and, after a moment of hesitation, the Inquisitor nudged her horse as well, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach weaved by the Knight - Commander's words.

The courtyard was full of people. Some wanted to see the arrival of their leader, others were slacking off their duties or paid their party no mind, going about their chores. But it was Cullen she was desperately searching for. He would always meet her by the gate. At first, back when she was just the Herald, it was purely business - he needed her report and he always needed it yesterday, polite and yet extremely impatient. This had resulted in several heated arguments and Gwendolynn gave up, adopting the habit of having a report ready for the insufferable man to read the moment she dismounted. But, as the time went by, the Commander was eagerly awaiting her return for different reasons. Cullen wanted to see if she was safe, if she needed anything, if - 

Her eyes found him, standing away from the crowd and leaning against the wall. Gwendolynn gave him a small wave and Cullen lifted his hand in a greeting. The Inquisitor jumped on the ground and handed the reins to one of the stable boys, navigating through the crowd towards the Commander. The closer she came, the more strained her smile became. Cullen looked worse then the last time she saw him. He still took care of himself, thank the Maker, but overall the man looked ill. His skin was not just pale anymore, it seemed waxy, accentuated by dark circles under his eyes. As she hugged him, arms snaking around Cullen's back, Gwendolynn could feel his armor shift - he had definitely lost weight. The Commander seemed calm, his hand resting on her back and yet his breathing was somewhat uneven, chest raising and falling fast.

_Cullen, you look ill._

_Did you even see a healer?_

_Why did you not send me a bird?_

_Why won't you tell me what's wrong?_

Gwendolynn wanted to give him a good shake, to curse his secretive nature but as she opened her mouth, Ser Rutherford's words seeped back into her mind, making the Inquisitor bite her tongue and plant a soft kiss on his jaw.

"I've missed you." 

***

As expected, their short reunion had been interrupted by one of Leliana's scouts and Gwendolynn left, promising to come see him later. As soon as she was out of sight Cullen straightened up, every bone in his body screaming in protest, and trudged towards his tower. Appearances. Something he had to remind himself when getting out of bed seemed impossible. When he had to bite his tongue bloody just to stifle a scream at how painful a simple process of getting dressed had become. There were better days, of course, but they were few and far apart. Still, _appearances_. Even if it took an hour just to style his hair, hands trembling so bad Cullen made more mess then progress. People had to see he still led them. That he was still around.

As he entered his study and closed the door, Cullen leaned his forehead against the cool stone of the wall and exhaled loudly. He thought he was doing a good job till Gwendolynn's eyes fell upon him. The Inquisitor was anything but a good liar - her smile said it all. The lack of an adequate reaction, however, had been puzzling. Gwen always spoke her mind and while the confession that she missed him had been, no doubt, sincere, the barrage of the questions he had been dreading never came. Who would possibly tell her how to - 

_Him._

The templar was first to ride into the courtyard and, as their gazes met, the other man nodded. Back then Cullen thought it was a greet but the probability of Ser Rutherford simply greeting him was astronomical. Now the Knight - Commander's motives had become startlingly obvious - the templar had asked Gwendolynn to spare the feelings of a cripple. To throw him a bone. In a blind rage Cullen growled and toppled a nearby bookcase over, ignoring the sharp waves of pain hitting his shoulders. The books scattered all over, carefully arranged reports becoming a shapeless mess but that was not what attracted the Commander's attention. A small vial rolled down the uneven floor and had stopped at his feet. Cullen grit his teeth together and reached for it, breastplate constricting and weighting him down. He took off the surcoat and the armor, throwing the damned things on the floor and attempted to pick up the bottle again. A jolt of pain ran up his legs, forcing Cullen to fall on his knees, trembling fingers finally getting hold of the vial. He could swear that it felt warm. The decision to quit lyrium turned out to be the worst one Cullen had ever made. The lack of lyrium had turned his healthy body into a wreck and after a year of constant suffering Cullen had nothing to show for it. _Nothing._ What if he drank the lyrium now? Would the pain go away? The memory of the rush he had from those very first draughts right after the Vigil made Cullen lick his lips, fingers curling around the small vial a tad tighter. 

Heavy footsteps outside the door made the Commander jerk his head to the side and listen, hoping the person would just leave. As the small strip of light underneath the door had darkened, Cullen cursed under his breath and tried standing up, using the overturned bookcase for support. The door flew open revealing Ser Rutherford, whose eyes quickly darted around the place, assessing the situation and coming to a certain conclusion.

"I'm just in time, it seems," he said as he slammed the door shut. "What's in your hand?"

"Get out," Cullen's lip lifted in an ugly sneer, stretching his scar. "You have no business being here."

"On the contrary," the man nodded, his commanding tone so painfully familiar. "Your hand. _Now_."

When Cullen refused the templar's order, Ser Rutherford stepped forward and grabbed the man's forearm with an iron grip. The Commander winced and stubbornly squeezed his fist even tighter. The small vial was not made to withstand such force and the glass shattered, its pieces wedging themselves into Cullen's palm. The brilliant blue liquid, now mixed with blood, started seeping through his fingers and both men inhaled sharply as the intimately familiar smell of lyrium tickled their senses. The templar frowned watching how the Commander's pupils dilated and a guttural moan left the other man's throat, whole body struggling against Ser Rutherford's hold to get to the precious liquid.

"It won't do you any good, not anymore! You've resisted so long," the templar raised his voice and quickly wiped Cullen's hand with his sash, pushing the other man into one of the chairs. "Hold on to what dignity you have left, Maker damn you! Don't make me tie you down like a mage, Commander."

Cullen blinked. It took him a moment to regain back his sanity and realise what Ser Rutherford was talking about. Then the Commander cringed in utter disgust. One of Cullen's questionable talents had been restraining mages with a help of a rope. The method was degrading and back in his recruit days Cullen had naively hoped he would never have to use it. However, upon his arrival in Kirkwall, Knight - Commander Meredith had looked into his background and made sure her Knight - Captain showed the local templars his trademark knots. On _real_ mages this time.

"You've done your good deed for today, templar," Cullen muttered. He wanted to feel angry but all he felt was defeat and exhaustion. "Get out."

"You don't get to talk to me that way, Commander," Ser Rutherford scoffed and crossed his arms. "But you _do_ get to talk. About _this_ ," he gestured towards the wounded hand Cullen was cradling. When nothing but silence was his answer, Ser Rutherford sighed. "Alright, allow me."

"You wanted to be free. You wanted to forget your personal nightmares - mages you've abused, horrors you've witnessed. You wanted the leash to be gone," the templar started pacing around the room, his eyes fixed on Cullen. "Is that so? Answer me."

"Why would _you_ , of all people, care?" Cullen huffed and pursed his lips together, finally looking away. "Yes."

"Cullen Rutherford. The man who _always_ thinks he knows better. Reckless by nature, cautious by experience. Addendum: thick as a plank when it suits him the most."

"Oh, I'm sorry, aren't you one of them 'Cullens Rutherfords' as well?" the Commander piped up in irritation, leaning back and watching the man in front of him. "What is even your point?"

"I quoted this from Knight - Commander Greagoir's report I had questionable pleasure to skim through," Ser Rutherford smirked and crossed his arms behind his back. "You did something irreversibly stupid. So used to being someone else's soldier you did not stop to think and check your sources. Frankly, why should you? A plan is made for you to follow, not to question."

With a growl Cullen stood up, muscles flaring up in painful protest and walked towards the templar, who now stood with the hands on his hips eying the Commander, his expression unreadable.

"What do you even know?" Cullen walked up to the Knight - Commander, face inches away from his. "What do you know about _anything_ that had happened to me? How dare you judge?!"

"I see someone who had it easy and he does not even know it," the templar hissed back. "Who pities and hates himself without realizing it could have been _so_ much worse. You think Kinloch Hold was bad? Gwen told me what had happened to you," his eyes darkened, voice falling dangerously low. "Now, what if I tell you about _my_ broken Circle? Where the woman I loved got tortured and killed right in front of my eyes? Where a demon wearing her skin tempted and toyed with me till I drove the blade through her chest, laying Surana to her final rest?"

The man stepped backwards, ragged breaths leaving his chest as he tried to still himself, his golden eyes locked with those of Cullen.

"The leash cannot be broken. It's how you choose to live with it. And you chose poorly," Ser Rutherford sighed, hand brushing the back of his neck in clear discomfort. "In my years as the Knight - Commander I had seen men come and go. It had always been up to me to guide them in their choices. Some of them saw too much and they wanted out. But lyrium claims us all, eventually. Quitting is the worst thing a templar can do," the man fell silent for a moment. " You and I - We may have a lot of differences but it is never pleasant to watch a good man suffer."

Cullen kept quiet, watching the figure in front of him. How often could someone tell they have truly faced themselves? The Commander's dislike for this templar ran deep. Deep enough for it to be self - loathing. Ser Rutherford with his shining armor, golden curls and a new scar that mirrored his own, was an avatar of Cullen's fears and doubts, a conscience that had always nagged him. A being that continuously reminded the Commander about his many failures - both as a templar and as a human being. Everything that he lacked in terms of skill - decisiveness, above all - was right in front of him, showing what he could have been if he stopped running away.

His conscience was embodied by this sickly man who bore his face. Everything he had done - starting with swaying the Warden to annul the Circle and ending with leashing the mages in Kirkwall - weighted heavily on Ser Rutherford. He tried to hide behind the walls of duty, encircling the more sensible side of him, till the voices of guilt and shame were nothing but whispers, still keeping him awake at night. He tried to smother the gentler side of him, to be a _good_ templar, the kind Chantry would praise as an example to the rest. It brought nothing but bitterness and resentment of the world around him. The Inquisitor was the first good thing that had happened to him in a very long while and he could not stand to see her being with someone he had battled inside his own head for so long. Ser Rutherford tried to win her at first, to show that he was better then the Commander, but the whispers in his head were growing louder. They told he was not that kind of man, he would not claim what was not his.

_... But she loves the other one, doesn't she?..._

Two voices broke the silence at the same time. "We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! It took me forever to update and I am so very sorry. I have The Worst Writer's Block ever. Everything I write seems to be just... bad. I re-edited this chapter twice and I think I am finally moderately satisfied with the result.
> 
> This angst had been coming for a while. Ser Rutherford is all grown up now. *sheds a sentimental tear*
> 
> Comments, kudos and some general love is very welcome. I am always interested to know what people think. ^^
> 
> Cheers!


	14. Heads or Tails

The idea had not been terrible at its core but it left the Inquisitor's advisors with mixed feelings. Leliana shrugged her shoulders, slight disapproval in her eyes. Josephine took some time to convince but, as always, Lady Ambassador had found the silver lining, declaring this is yet another way to establish the image of the Inquisitor as a charitable pious woman and had assured Gwendolynn that she will make some arrangements and drop some invitations. Cullen just nodded, eyes on the table. Her Commander did not have much to say these days. He provided the sound military advice - as was expected of him - but would leave the war room as soon as able, burying himself in paperwork. The Inquisitor's every attempt to spend some time with him ended up with Cullen smiling apologetically and saying he had too much work to do and, perhaps, some other time would be better. 'Other time', in turn, would become yet another 'later' and Gwendolynn had finally left him alone. Her anxiety about the whole situation had been getting worse and she felt trapped within Skyhold's walls. 

When Josephine had brought the news of the Inquisition's successful retrieval of the remains from the ruins of Old Crestwood and the last rites that the villagers wanted to perform for the departed, Gwendolynn latched onto this opportunity, announcing she would like to be present at the event. Everyone thought her unreasonable - Dorian said that he had enough rain and mud to last him a lifetime, Anders mentioned he had business to attend at the clinic. Vivienne - who always seemed to have nose in Gwendolynn's business - even took an extra effort to approach the Inquisitor, giving her a speech about the priorities, upholding appearances and certain inadequate behaviours, while there is a world to save.

"Darling, you would not expect the Divine to go around and bless every peasant's prize - winning cow, would you?"

Oh, the First Enchanter was absolutely right but the need to get out in the field for a bit of peace and quiet had been too great. Since Crestwood had been cleared of rifts and the presence of the Inquisition kept the bandits at bay, Gwendolynn needed neither Dorian nor Anders but the Knight - Commander had been insistent she needed an escort. On one hand, Gwendolynn felt that being in the company of Ser Rutherford would be a low blow at Cullen but on the other hand, the Commander did not show much interest in her life, as of late. Both concerned and frustrated, Gwendolynn had agreed for the templar to come along.

They left Skyhold at the crack of dawn two days later and the Inquisitor could swear she saw a shadow step away from the window as she lifted her head to look at the small window of Cullen's tower. What she _failed_ to see, however, was the Knight - Commander raising his arm up behind her back and saluting curtly.

***

_For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light_

Sitting on a crude bench, fingers intertwined, Gwendolynn absentmindedly listened to the words of the Chantry Sister performing the last rites. She took a glance sideways, looking for Ser Rutherford. His eyes were closed and the lips moved soundlessly along with the prayer. Nobody questioned why the Commander of the Inquisition took a special leave to visit the ceremony. In fact it was a well known fact that Cullen Rutherford stemmed from these parts. His presence seemed only natural. The Commander's lifestyle was reclusive enough to make Ser Rutherford pass as his counterpart. Prior to arriving at Crestwood Gwen had convinced him to shed the templar armor, leaving the man dressed in dark leathers and a maroon sash. Persuading the Knight - Commander to use some beeswax for straightening his curls had been a long and hard battle but she had persevered - from the front Ser Rutherford looked like a spitting image of the Commander but at the back the golden waves were almost completely covering his neck, giving the templar a bit of a roguish look. 

_And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost._

Everyone stood up and so did the Inquisitor. Gwen's fore - and middle fingers pressed tightly together, symbolizing the Maker and Andraste, touched the middle of her forehead and then traveled in a straight diagonal line towards her heart. She watched Sister Valeria lighting up a candle and, not long after, a row of tiny lights began flickering along the border of Old Crestwood.

"Inquisitor, would you honour us?" Valeria's quiet voice beckoned Gwen forwards and with a small nod the Inquisitor rested her palms on the lever of the dam controls. Just like the first time it took tremendous effort to get the gears moving and when the roaring sound of water had finally seeped through the stone walls of the old tavern, Gwendolynn huffed quietly and let the lever go. The Old Crestwood had been laid to rest and the ceremony had come to its end.

She left for New Crestwood alone - the Knight - Commander was distracted by some people that were apparently the distant family acquaintances and wanted to know how the Rutherfords were doing. A little voice in the back of her mind accused Gwen of abandoning him in a social peril but mostly she just wanted to be alone. And the man could very well take care of himself.

***

The boots landed in one corner, the jacket in the other. Gwendolynn fished out the copy of 'Swords and Shields' that Cassandra let her borrow. The Seeker took care to mark her favourite pages with small pieces of paper and would expect full report on how the Inquisitor liked this piece of 'smutty literature'. Gwen did not have it in her heart to tell the woman that this could be classified as 'fluff' at best. The true smut literature was safely locked away in Josephine's travel chest - Lady Ambassador was a big fan of steamy lady books. 

She must have been thirty pages in when a stern knock had interrupted her mid - chapter. Gwen launched herself from the bed, book still in hand, and opened the door.

"The sting of betrayal is harsh, Inquisitor." Ser Rutherford pursed his lips together but it was clearly in good fun. Nevertheless, Gwendolynn felt a pinch of guilt.

"I'm sorry," she said, eying a spider in the corner of the room who had suddenly become extremely fascinating. "I just - I needed some time for myself."

"I see," the templar's tone was weird enough for Gwen to look up and see that he was staring at the book in her hand, arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face. "Maker have mercy. Different world and yet Tethras still writes his trash."

"Do _not_ let the Seeker hear you," Gwen grinned, putting a dried Crystal Grace between the pages before closing the book. "This 'trash' is very dear to her and she'll fight you for it."

They stood in the doorway for a short while, both awkwardly silent. Gwen had become painfully aware how unpresentable she must have looked - barefoot, messy hair, shirt partly pulled out from under the waistband. The templar's gaze ran over her frame once, appreciation in the golden eyes and then Ser Rutherford had turned his face towards the same spider Gwen had been staring at earlier.

"Gwendolynn," he started slowly, his voice soft. She looked at him, the unspoken question in her gaze. "Would you, perhaps, care to accompany me someplace?"

"I - Well, what kind of place? I have standards, you know." A poor attempt at a joke but it made him chuckle.

"Somewhere _nice_ , Lady Trevelyan."

He looked... Hopeful? Gwen worried her bottom lip. It is not that she did not want to go, is that she was scared to be alone with him. Scared of the feelings the man had invoked when she looked at him. Feelings that were especially strong now that Cullen was acting so distant.

"A bit of horseback riding, Gwen," it was as if he sensed her uncertainty. "Nothing more."

*** 

They had arrived at a small lake, hidden in the hills. The frogs were lazily croaking in the reed and the patches of mist were gliding over the perfectly still surface. Ser Rutherford dismounted and led his horse to a nearby tree, tying the reins low enough for the steed to grass to its heart's content. Gwendolynn did the same and followed the templar to the small pier. The water was so clear that even in the dark Gwen could see an outline of a sunken boat close to the shore. When the moon would reappeared from under the clouds, the water shone like a surface of a mirror.

"Breathtaking!" she exhaled, looking around.

"Isn't it?" Ser Rutherford lifted his face up, looking at the sky. "I've discovered this place a very long time ago. I was... hoping this world had it too."

"Discovered?" Gwen came closer and watched a shadow of a fish swim quickly to the safety of the reed.

"I grew up not so far from here," the templar said slowly and finally turned towards her. "My father often went to the fair here to sell his produce. Honnleath was off the trading routes, you see. Often, to give my mother some rest, he would take me and my siblings along."

Siblings. Gwendolynn remembered Cullen talking about them on several occasions. He was the second child out of four. There was the oldest sister - Mia, Rosalie - the baby of the family and Branson. 

"My siblings... Maker knows, I loved them. But they were _loud_ and I had to sneak out to clear my head. One day Branson was particularly irritating, teasing me mercilessly and so I, kind of, kicked him in the, ah -" he rubbed his neck uncomfortably, corners of the mouth curling up in a small smile. "My father was _furious_ and I ran as if my heels were on fire. When I stopped to take a breather, this is where I ended up. In a way I owe this place to Branson."

"Well, did you ever thank him?" Gwen asked, searching for his face and what she saw in it made her deeply regret the question. Sorrow. The kind that is known only to those who had lost something very dear. "I'm so sorry, Cullen."

"Don't be," was the flat answer as the templar regained his composure once again, his features calm. "This is not why I brought you here."

His hand slid in the pocket of his jacket and something flickered in his fingers. Gwen's stomach clenched in panic. She had a suspicion what it might be but prayed to the Maker she was wrong.

"You put your life on the line every day. As much as I wish to protect you, it might happen I won't be around. This is why," he uncurled his fingers and Gwen saw exactly what she was dreading to see - a small silver coin, shining dimly in the pale light of the moon. "I want you to have this. Branson gave it to me when I left for the templars, said it was for luck. This is the only possession I refused to surrender to the Chantry. Now I want _you_ to have it. You need it more then I do if you are to face Corypheus."

"I... Cullen -" Gwendolynn mumbled in panic, her hand reaching for a breast pocket where another silver coin laid safely hidden from everyone's eyes. Cullen gave it to her in Adamant, hours before the assault on the fortress. Just as Ser Rutherford, he wanted her to be safe, to have that bit of extra luck on her side - even if it was just a silly superstition.

"Two lucks are better then one." he said simply and carefully put a coin in Gwendolynn's trembling hand.

He _knew_. How? She did not dare to ask. The tips of Ser Rutherford's fingers grazed her cheek for a moment and then he walked away, saying he will wait by the horses. As he departed, Gwen carefully took the other coin and put the two together. Cullen's had obverse polished clean, the profile of Maric Theirin weary from both age and finger - rubbing. The templar's coin had most wear at the reverse, the noble mabari of Ferelden shining bright. Even this small details was a perfect example of how different and yet how similar the two men were.

_... Truly, like the two sides of the same coin..._

Gwendolynn carefully tucked away both of her lucky charms and threw one last glance over the lake as she turned around and went to join Ser Rutherford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me forever to update. I was agonizing over this chapter for a long while because there were specific things I wanted to put in but I did not know how but in the end I just ditched the idea and I am quite happy with the result.
> 
> And did I put the name of the story in the chapter?? The gall, the cheese!
> 
> Now I can begin agonizing over the next chapter. Oh JOY.
> 
> Let me know what you think, I'm always curious.
> 
> Love and cookies!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Second Chance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5782312) by [Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind), [SilentSlayer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentSlayer/pseuds/SilentSlayer)




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